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could hardly wait till she was alone with her sisters in their attic bedroom to tell them that Dan Pooler had asked her to marry him. They were going to try to go to housekeeping in the spring.

The following Sunday afternoon when Dan and Lizzie May were out driving, Jerry Blackford came over to the Pippinger place. There was nothing unusual about this. Since they were mere babies the Blackford boys, Andy and Jerry, had been in the habit of coming over to play with the Pippingers. This time, however, Jerry came alone. And instead of being in overalls and torn shirt, he was wearing his new brown mail order suit, a black derby hat, a "biled" shirt, and a resplendent tie of red and green stripes. He walked up the wagon drive, hesitated for the fraction of a second before the little picket gate that led into the dooryard of the house, then walked on into the barnyard. Here he found Bill, Uncle Sam Whitmarsh, and Uncle Amos Crupper sitting on the chopping log chewing, whittling, and spitting. It was late December, but the day was mild and the sunshine pleasant to sit in. A Sabbath afternoon calm permeated the pale sunshine and the still, birdless air. A few crows cawing reproachfully over the stubble of the deserted cornfield, only intensified the silence. Between the men and the barn, Craw and Elmer were playing a game of catch with a homemade ball of twisted rubber and string.

"Where be ye a-goin' in yer Sunday clothes, Jerry?" inquired old Amos Crupper, looking up from his whittling.

"No place."

"Aw, come on naow," rallied Uncle Sam Whitmarsh, with a twinkle in his keen gray eyes. "A young feller don't stretch on his Sunday best jes to tramp the roads. You're a-goin' sparkin' some gal."

"I hain't neither. I'm a-goin to hev a game o' ketch with