“It was a mighty blow to the Methodist Church when he was taken away so young,” said Miss Amanda gently.  “I know I said then that they never would be—­”

“Lands alive, if here ain’t Miss Viney and Miss Amandy out planting the jack beans and I ain’t got down not a square foot of summer turnip greens!” exclaimed a hearty voice as Mrs. Rucker hurried up across the yard to the garden gate.  “Now I know I’m a behind-hander, for my ground’s always ready, and in go the greens when you all turn spade for the bean vines.  Are you a-looking for a little job of plowing, Mr. Mark?  I’d put Mr. Rucker at it, but he give his left ankle a twist yestidy and have had to be kinder quiet, a-setting on the back porch or maybe a-hobbling over to the store.”

“Yes, I’ll plow, if you don’t care whether your mule or plow or hame strings come out alive,” answered Everett with a laugh.  Miss Amanda had risen, hurried eagerly over to her favorite neighbor and held out her hand for the pan tendered her.

“Them’s your sally luns, Miss Amandy, and they are a good chanct if I do say it myself.  I jest know you and Rose Mary have got on the big pot and little kettle for Mr. Newsome, and I’m mighty proud to have the luns handed around with your all’s fixings.  I reckon Rose Mary is so comfusticated you can’t hardly trust her with no supper rolls or such like.  Have you seen him yet, Rose Mary?” she asked of Rose Mary, who had appeared at the garden gate.

“No; I’ve just come up from the milk-house,” answered Rose Mary with a laughing blush.  “When did Mr. Newsome come?”

“Just now,” answered Mrs. Rucker, with further banter in her eyes.  “And none of Solomon’s lilies in all they glory was ever arrayed like one of him.  You better go frill yourself out, Rose Mary, for the men ain’t a-going to be able to hold him chavering over there at the store very long.”

“It will only take me a few minutes to dress,” answered Rose Mary, with a continuation of the blush.  “The Aunties are all ready for supper, and Stonie and Uncle Tucker.  Mag has got everything just ready to dish up, and I’ll take in the sally luns to be run in the stove at the last moment.  Isn’t it lovely to have company?  Friends right at home you can show your liking for all the time, but you must be careful to save their share for the others to give to them when they come.  Mr. Mark, don’t you want to—­”

But before Rose Mary had begun her sentence Mr. Mark Everett, of New York City, New York, was striding away across the yard with a long swing, and as he went through the front gate it somehow slipped out of his hand and closed itself with a bang.  The expression of his back as he crossed the road might have led one versed in romantics to conclude that a half-unsheathed sword hung at his side and that he had two flintlocks thrust into his belt.

And over at the store he found himself in the midst of a jubilation.  Mr. Gideon Newsome, of Bolivar, Tennessee, stood in the doorway, and surrounding him in the store, in the doorway and on the porch was the entire masculine population of Sweetbriar.