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79024        12 “You go to bed and have your nap. I want to talk to Stephen.” Thomas shrugged his shoulders and went. He probably thought I was brewing up lots of trouble for myself, but he didn’t say anything. As soon as he was out of the way I casually remarked to Stephen that I understood that he was going to take one of my neighbors away and that I couldn’t be sorry, though she was an excellent neighbor and I would miss her a great deal. “You won’t have to miss her much, I reckon,” said Stephen grimly. “I’ve been told I’m not wanted there.” I was surprised to hear Stephen come out so plump and plain about it, for I hadn’t expected to get at

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said stubbornly.

“Of course it is. ‘The hand is the hand of Esau, but the voice is the voice of Jacob,’” I said, though I wasn’t sure whether the quotation was exactly appropriate. “Emmeline composed that letter and made Prissy copy it out. I know that as well as if I’d seen her do it, and you ought to have known it, too.”

“If I thought that I’d show Emmeline I could get Prissy in spite of her,” said Stephen savagely. “But if Prissy doesn’t want me I’m not going to force my attentions on her.”

Well, we talked it over a bit, and in the end I agreed to sound Prissy, and find out what she really thought

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about it. I didn’t think it would be hard to do,; and it wasn’t. I went over the very next day because I saw Emmeline driving off to the store. I found Prissy alone, sewing carpet rags. Emmeline kept her constantly at that – because Prissy hated it I suppose. Prissy was crying when I went in, and in a few minutes I had the whole story. Prissy wanted to get married – and she wanted to get married to Stephen – and Emmeline wouldn’t let her.

“Prissy Strong,” I said in in agravat exasperation, “you haven’t the spirit of a mouse! Why on earth did you write him such a letter”?

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“Why, Em’line made me,” said Prissy, as if there couldn’t be any appeal from that; and I knew there couldn’t – for Prissy. I also knew that if Stephen wanted to see Prissy again Emmeline must know nothing of it, and I told him so when he came down the next evening – to borrow a hoe, he said. It was a long way to come for a hoe.

“Then what am I to do?” he said. “It wouldn’t be any use to write, for it would likely fall into Emmeline’s hands. She won’t let Prissy go anywhere alone after this, and how am I to know when the old cat is awa away?”

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“Please don’t insult cats,” I said. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. You can see the ventilator on our barn from your place, can’t you? You’d be able to make out a flag or something tied to it, wouldn’t you, through that spy-glass of yours”?

Stephen thought he could.

“Well, you take a squint at it every now and then,” I said. “Just as soon as Emmeline leaves Prissy alone I’ll hoist a signal.”

The chance didn’t come for a whole fortnight. Then, one evening, I saw Emmeline striding over the field below our house. As soon as she was out of sight I ran through the birch grove to Prissy.

“Yes, Em’line’s gone to sit sit up

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with Jane Lawson to-night,” said Prissy, all fluttered and trembling.

“Then you put on your muslin dress and fix your hair,” I said. “I’m going home to get Thomas to tie something to that ventilator.”

But do you think Thomas would would do it? Not he. He said he owed something to his position as elder in the church. In the end I had to do it myself, though I don’t like climbing ladders. I tied Thomas’ long red woollen scarf to the ventilator, and prayed that Stephen would see it. He did, for in less than an hour he drove down our lane and put his horse in our barn. He was all spruced up, and as nervous nervous and excited as a schoolboy. He went right over to Prissy, and I

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began to tuft my new comfort with a clear conscience. I shall never know why it suddenly came into my head to go up to the garret and make sure that the moths hadn’t got into my box of blankets; but I have always believed that it was a special interposition of Providence. I went went up and happened to look out of the east window; and there I saw Emmeline Strong coming home across our pond field.

I just flew down those garret stairs and out through the birches. I burst into the Strong kitchen where Stephen and Prissy were sitting as cozy as you please.

“Stephen, come quick! Emmeline’s Emmeline’s nearly here,” I cried.

Prissy looked out of the window

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and wrung her hands.

“Oh, she’s in the lane now,” she gasped. “He can’t get out of the house without her seeing him. Oh, Rosanna, what shall we do?”

I really don’t know what would have become of those two people if I hadn’t been in existence to find ideas for them.

“Take Stephen up to the garret and hide him there, Prissy,” I said firmly, “and take him quick.”

Prissy took him quick, but she had barely time to get back to the kitchen before Emmeline marched in—h mad as a wet hen because somebody had been ahead of her offering to sit up with Jane Lawson, and so she lost the chance of

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had made good use of their time, short as it had been. Prissy had promised to marry him, and all that remained was to get the ceremony performed.

“And that will be no easy matter,” I warned him. “Now that Emmeline’s suspicions are aroused she’ll never let Prissy out of her sight until you’re married to another woman, if it’s years. I know Emmeline Strong. And I know Prissy. If it was any other girl in the world she’d run away, or manage it somehow, but Prissy never will. She’s too much in the habit of obeying Emmeline. You’ll have an obedient wife, Stephen – if you ever get her.”

Stephen looked as if he

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thought that wouldn’t be any drawback. Gossip said Althea had been pretty bossy. I don’t know. Maybe it was so.

“Can’t you suggest something, Rosanna?” he implored. “You’ve helped us so far, and I’ll never forget it.”

“The only thing I can’t [sic] think of is for you to have the license ready, and speak to Mr. Leonard, and keep an eye on our ventilator,” I said. “I’ll watch here and signal whenever there’s an opening.”

Well, I watched and Stephen watched, and Mr. Leonard was in the plot, too. Prissy was always a favorite of his, and he hadn’t any love would have been more than human, saint as he is, if he’d had any love

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a rule, he makes a very long and solemn thing of the marriage ceremony, but this time he cut out everything that wasn’t absolutely necessary; and it was well that he did, for just as he pronounced them man and wife Emmeline drove into the lane.

She knew perfectly well what had happened when she saw the minister with his blue book in his hand. Never a word said she. She marched to the front door, unlocked it, and strode upstairs. I’ve always been convinced it was a mercy that closet window was so small, or I’m I believe she would have thrown Prissy out of it. As it was, she walked

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her downstairs by the arm and actually flung her at Stephen.

“There, take your wife,” she said, “and I’ll pack up every stitch she owns and send it after her; and I never want to see her or you again as long as I live.”

Then she turned to me and Thomas.

“As for you that have aided and abetted that weak-minded fool in this, take yourselves out of my yard and never darken my door again.”

“Goodness, who wants to, you old spitfire?” said Thomas.

It wasn’t just the same thing for him to say, perhaps, but we are all human, even elders.

The girls didn’t escape. Emmeline