Meanwhile Mr. Evelyn’s visits continued, and when at last Emma could see him I was sure that she received him more kindly than she ever had before.  “That’ll go yet,” was grandma’s prediction.  But her scheming was cut short by a letter from Emma’s father, requesting her immediate return.  Mr. Evelyn, who found he had business which required his presence in Worcester, was to accompany her thus far.  It was a sad day when she left us, for she was a universal favorite.  Sally cried, I cried, and Bill either cried or made believe, for he very industriously wiped his eyes and nasal organ on his shirt sleeves:  besides that, things went on wrong side up generally.  Grandma was cross—­Sally was cross—­and the school-teacher was cross; the bucket fell into the well, and the cows got into the corn.  I got called up at school and set with some hateful boys, one of whom amused himself by pricking me with a pin, and when, in self-defense, I gave him a good pinch, he actually yelled out:  “She keeps a-pinchin’ me!” On the whole, ’twas a dreadful day, and when at night I threw myself exhausted upon my little bed I cried myself to sleep, thinking of Cousin Emma and wishing she would come back.

CHAPTER VI.

MIKE AND SALLY.

I have spoken of Sally, but have said nothing of Mike, whom, of all my father’s hired men, I liked the best.  He it was who made the best cornstalk fiddles, and whittled out the shrillest whistles with which to drive grandma “ravin’ distracted.”  He, too, it was who, on cold winter mornings, carried Lizzie to school in his arms, making me forget how my fingers ached, by telling some exploit of his schooldays.

I do not wonder that Sally liked him, and I always had an idea how that liking would end, but did not think it would be so soon.  Consequently I suspected nothing when Sally’s white dress was bleached on the grass in the clothesyard for nearly a week.  One day Billy came to me with a face full of wonder, saying he had just overheard Mike tell one of the men that he and Sally were going to be married in a few weeks.

I knew now what all that bleaching was for, and why Sally bought so much cotton lace of pedlers.  I was in ecstasies, too, for I had never seen anyone married, but regretted the circumstance, whatever it might have been, which prevented me from being present at mother’s marriage.  Like many other children I have been deceived into the belief that the marriage ceremony consisted mainly in leaping the broomstick, and by myself I had frequently tried the experiment, delighted to find that I could jump it at almost any distance from the ground; but I had some misgivings as to Sally’s ability to clear the stick, for she was rather clumsy; however, I should see the fun, for they were to be married at our house.