They were both silent for a moment.  Then she said, pleadingly, “Oh, Jed, it is up to you and me, isn’t it?  What shall we do?”

It was the “we” in this sentence which thrilled.  If she had bade him put his neck in front of the handsaw just then Jed would have obeyed, and smilingly have pulled the lever which set the machine in motion.  But the question, nevertheless, was a staggerer.

“W-e-e-ll,” he admitted, “I—­I hardly know what to say, I will give in.  To be right down honest—­and the Lord knows I hate to say it—­ it wouldn’t do for a minute to let those two young folks get engaged—­to say nothin’ of gettin’ married—­with this thing between ’em.  It wouldn’t be fair to her, nor to Sam—­no, nor to him or you, either.  You see that, don’t you?” he begged.  “You know I don’t say it for any reason but just—­just for the best interests of all hands.  You know that, don’t you—­Ruth?”

“Of course, of course.  But what then?”

“I don’t really know what then.  Seems to me the very first thing would be for you to speak to him, put the question right up to him, same as he’s been puttin’ it to himself all this time.  Get him to talk it over with you.  And then—­well, then—­”

“Yes?”

“Oh, I don’t know!  I declare I don’t.”

“Suppose he tells me he means to marry her in spite of everything?  Suppose he won’t listen to me at all?”

That possibility had been in Jed’s mind from the beginning, but he refused to consider it.

“He will listen,” he declared, stoutly.  “He always has, hasn’t he?”

“Yes, yes, I suppose he has.  He listened to me when I persuaded him that coming here and hiding all—­all that happened was the right thing to do.  And now see what has come of it!  And it is all my fault.  Oh, I have been so selfish!”

“Sshh! sshh!  You ain’t; you couldn’t be if you tried.  And, besides, I was as much to blame as you.  I agreed that ’twas the best thing to do.”

“Oh,” reproachfully, “how can you say that?  You know you were opposed to it always.  You only say it because you think it will comfort me.  It isn’t true.”

“Eh?  Now—­now, don’t talk so.  Please don’t.  If you keep on talkin’ that way I’ll do somethin’ desperate, start to make a johnny cake out of sawdust, same as I did yesterday mornin’, or somethin’ else crazy.”

“Jed!”

“It’s true, that about the johnny cake.  I came pretty nigh doin’ that very thing.  I bought a five-pound bag of corn meal yesterday and fetched it home from the store all done up in a nice neat bundle.  Comin’ through the shop here I had it under my arm, and—­ hum—­er—­well, to anybody else it couldn’t have happened, but, bein’ Jed Shavin’s Winslow, I was luggin’ the thing with the top of the bag underneath.  I got about abreast of the lathe there when the string came off and in less’n two thirds of a shake all I had under my arm was the bag; the meal was on