farm-house, whence they looked eastward down the sloping corn-field
which had been the scene of the husking-frolic, Mark turned to Gilbert
with an honest blush all over his face, and said,--

"I don't see why you shouldn't know it, Gilbert. I'm sure Sally wouldn't
care; you're almost like a brother to her."

"What?" Gilbert asked, yet with a quick suspicion of the coming
intelligence.

"Oh, I guess you know, well enough, old fellow. I asked her that night,
and it's all right between us. What do you say to it, now?"

"Mark, I'm glad of it; I wish you joy, with all my heart!" Gilbert
stretched out his hand, and as he turned and looked squarely into Mark's
half-bashful yet wholly happy face, he remembered Martha's words, at
their last interview.

"You are like a brother to me, Mark," he said, "and you shall have _my_
secret. What would you say if I had done the same thing?"

"No?" Mark exclaimed; "who?"

"Guess!"

"Not--not Martha?"

Gilbert smiled.

"By the Lord! It's the best day's work _you_'ve ever done! Gi' me y'r