“I really do not care to hear about it,” interrupted Betty.

“But, Betty, tell us.  Wasn’t it dreadful, his carrying you?” asked Alice, with a sly glance at Betty.  “You know you are so—­so prudish, one may say.  Did he take you in his arms?  It must have been very embarrassing for you, considering your dislike of Mr. Clarke, and he so much in love with—­”

“You hateful girls,” cried Betty, throwing a pillow at Alice, who just managed to dodge it.  “I wish you would go home.”

“Never mind, Betty.  We will not tease anymore,” said Lydia, putting her arm around Betty.  “Come, Alice, we will tell Betty you have named the day for your wedding.  See!  She is all eyes now.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The young people of the frontier settlements were usually married before they were twenty.  This was owing to the fact that there was little distinction of rank and family pride.  The object of the pioneers in moving West was, of course, to better their condition; but, the realization of their dependence on one another, the common cause of their labors, and the terrible dangers to which they were continually exposed, brought them together as one large family.

Therefore, early love affairs were encouraged—­not frowned upon as they are to-day—­and they usually resulted in early marriages.

However, do not let it be imagined that the path of the youthful swain was strewn with flowers.  Courting or “sparking” his sweetheart had a painful as well as a joyous side.  Many and varied were the tricks played on the fortunate lover by the gallants who had vied with him for the favor of the maid.  Brave, indeed, he who won her.  If he marched up to her home in the early evening he was made the object of innumerable jests, even the young lady’s family indulging in and enjoying the banter.  Later, when he come out of the door, it was more than likely that, if it were winter, he would be met by a volley of water soaked snowballs, or big buckets of icewater, or a mountain of snow shoved off the roof by some trickster, who had waited patiently for such an opportunity.  On summer nights his horse would be stolen, led far into the woods and tied, or the wheels of his wagon would be taken off and hidden, leaving him to walk home.  Usually the successful lover, and especially if he lived at a distance, would make his way only once a week and then late at night to the home of his betrothed.  Silently, like a thief in the dark, he would crawl through the grass and shrubs until beneath her window.  At a low signal, prearranged between them, she would slip to the door and let him in without disturbing the parents.  Fearing to make a light, and perhaps welcoming that excuse to enjoy the darkness beloved by sweethearts, they would sit quietly, whispering low, until the brightening in the east betokened the break of day, and then he was off, happy and lighthearted, to his labors.