In another respect the young farmer enjoyed a noticeable advantage over the man-of-the-world;—­he was quite able to tear down those fancy donjon additions, and erect a plain, honest, substantial, very comfortable, and very cheerful Yankee porch on their site.

But Miss Wimple said to Simon,—­“For a season you will keep aloof from this place and from me.  I must see you no oftener than it would be allowable for an occasional customer of the better sort to drop in; and when you do come, state your business—­let it always be business, or pass by—­and take your leave, like any indifferent neighbor who came to change a book, or purchase a trifle, or engage work.  On these terms our love must wait, until by my own unaided exertions—­without help, mark you, Simon, from any man or woman on earth—­I have discharged the debt of charity that is due to the good people of this place who helped my father in his utmost need, and gave him this shop and these things in trust.  From you, of all men, Simon, I will accept no aid.  Play no tricks of kindness upon me; nor let your love tempt you to experiment, with disguised charity, upon my purpose.  You would only find that you had failed, and ruined all.  The proceeds of this poor shop must belong to those whose money procured it, until I shall have paid its price; on no pretext shall that fund be touched for other purposes.  I will sustain myself independently; you know that I ply a nimble needle, and that my handiwork will be in esteem among the richer folks of Hendrik.  And now, dear Simon, let me have my way.  You need no more earnest assurance of my love than the pains I would take, in this matter, to make you respect me more.  When my task is done, I will deck myself as of old, and again light up the rose-star in my hair, and stand in the door and clap my hands to call you hither, and hold you fast; but not till then.  Let me have my way till then.”

And Simon said,—­“You are wiser than I, Sally, and braver, and every way better.  I will obey you in this, and wait,—­the more cheerfully because I shall be always at hand, and, if your heart should fail you, I know you will not refuse my aid, nor prefer another’s to mine.”

And so they passed for mere acquaintances; and there were some who said—­Philip Withers among them—­that “that plausible Golden Farmer, young Blount, had treated the forlorn thing shabbily.”

About that time hoops came in, and the Splurge girls flourished the first that appeared in Hendrik.

One day, as Miss Wimple sat in a low Yankee rocking-chair, sewing among her books, she was favored with the extraordinary apparition of Miss Madeline Splurge,—­her first visitor that day, whether on business or curiosity.

“I wish to procure a small morocco pocket-book, Miss Wimple, if you keep such things.”