Hepsey had been so busy with helping the Maxwells that for some time no opportunity had occurred for Jonathan to press his ardent suit. Since his first attempt and its abrupt termination, he had been somewhat bewildered; he had failed to decide whether he was an engaged man open to congratulations, or a rejected suitor to be condoled with. He tried to recall exactly what she had said. As near as he could recollect, it was: "I'll think it over, and perhaps some day--" Then he had committed the indiscretion of grasping her hand, causing her to drop her stitches before she had ended what she was going to say. He could have sworn at himself to think that it was all his fault that she had stopped just at the critical moment, when she might have committed herself and given him some real encouragement. But he consoled himself by the thought that she had evidently taken him seriously at last; and so to the "perhaps some day" he added, in imagination, the words "I will take you"; and this seemed reasonable.

The matter was more difficult from the very fact that they had been on such intimate terms for such a long time, and she had never hitherto given him any reason to think that she cared for him other than as a good neighbor and a friend. Ever since the death of his wife, she seemed to feel that he had been left an orphan in a cold and unsympathetic world, and that it was her duty to look after him much as she would a child. She was in the habit of walking over whenever she pleased and giving directions to Mary McGuire in regard to matters which she thought needed attention in his house. And all this had been done in the most open and matter-of-fact way, so that the most accomplished gossip in Durford never accused her of making matrimonial advances to the lonesome widower. Even Jonathan himself had been clever enough to see that she regarded him much as she would an overgrown boy, and had always accepted her many attentions without misinterpreting them. She was a born manager, and she managed him; that was all. Nothing could be more unsentimental than the way in which she would make him take off his coat during a friendly call, and let her sponge and press it for him; or the imperative fashion in which she sent him to the barber's to have his beard trimmed. How could a man make love to a woman after she had acted like this?

But he reminded himself that if he was ever to win her he must begin to carry out the advice outlined by Mrs. Betty; and so the apparently unsuspecting Hepsey would find on her side porch in the morning some specially fine corn which had been placed there after dark without the name of the donor. Once a fine melon was accompanied by a bottle of perfumery; and again a basket of peaches had secreted in its center a package of toilet soap "strong enough to kill the grass," as Hepsey remarked as she sniffed at it. Finally matters reached a climax when a bushel of potatoes arrived on the scene in the early dawn, and with it a canary bird in a tin cage. When Hepsey saw Jonathan later, she remarked casually that she "guessed she'd keep the potatoes; but she didn't need a canary bird any more than a turtle needs a tooth-pick; and he had better take it away and get his money back."

However, Jonathan never allowed her occasional rebuffs to discourage him or stop his attentions. He kept a close watch on all Hepsey's domestic interests, and if there were any small repairs to be made at Thunder Cliff, a hole in the roof to be mended, or the bricks on the top of the chimney to be relaid, or the conductor pipe to be readjusted, Jonathan was on the spot. Then Jonathan would receive in return a layer cake with chopped walnuts in the filling, and would accept it in the same matter-of-fact way in which Hepsey permitted his services as general caretaker.

This give-and-take business went on for some time. At last it occurred to him that Mrs. Burke's front porch ought to be painted, and he conceived the notion of doing the work without her knowledge, as a pleasant surprise to her. He waited a long time for some day when she should be going over to shop at Martin's Junction,--when Nickey usually managed to be taken along,--so that he could do the work unobserved. Meantime, he collected from the hardware store various cards with samples of different colors on them. These he would combine and re-combine at his leisure, in the effort to decide just what colors would harmonize. He finally decided that a rather dark blue for the body work would go quite well, with a bright magenta for the trimmings, and laid in a stock of paint and brushes, and possessed his soul in patience.

So one afternoon, arriving home burdened with the spoils of Martin's Junction, great was Mrs. Burke's astonishment and wrath when she discovered the porch resplendent in dark blue and magenta.

"Sakes alive! Have I got to live inside of that," she snorted. "Why, it's the worst lookin' thing I ever saw. If I don't settle him," she added, "--paintin' my porch as if it belonged to him--and me as well," she added ambiguously. And, catching up her sun-bonnet, she hastened over to her neighbor's and inquired for Jonathan. "Sure, he's gone to Martin's Junction to see his brother, Mrs. Burke. He said he'd stay over night, and I needn't come in again till to-morrow dinner-time," Mary McGuire replied.

Hepsey hastened home, and gathering all the rags she could find, she summoned Nickey and Mullen, one of the men from the farm, and they worked with turpentine for nearly two hours, cleaning off the fresh paint from the porch. Then she sent Nickey down to the hardware store for some light gray paint and some vivid scarlet paint, and a bit of dryer. It did not take very long to repaint her porch gray--every trace of the blue and the magenta having been removed by the vigorous efforts of the three.

When it was finished, she opened the can of scarlet, and pouring in a large quantity of dryer she sent Nickey over to see if Mary McGuire had gone home. All three set to work that evening to paint the porch in front of Jonathan's house. At first Mullen protested anxiously that it was none of his business to be painting another man's porch, but Mrs. Burke gave him a look which changed his convictions; so he and Nickey proceeded gleefully to fulfill their appointed task, while she got supper.

When the work was quite finished. Hepsey went over to inspect it, and remarked thoughtfully to herself: "I should think that a half pint of dryer might be able to get in considerable work before to-morrow noon. I hope Jonathan'll like scarlet. To be sure it does look rather strikin' on a white house; but then variety helps to relieve the monotony of a dead alive town like Durford; and if he don't like it plain, he can trim it green. I'll teach him to come paintin' my house without so much as a by-your-leave, or with-your-leave, lettin' the whole place think things."

As it happened, Jonathan returned late that night to Durford--quite too late to see the transformation of his own front porch, and since he entered by the side door as usual, he did not even smell the new paint. The next morning he sauntered over to Thunder Cliff, all agog for his reward, and Mrs. Burke greeted him at her side door, smiling sweetly.

"Good mornin', Jonathan. It was awful good of you to paint my front porch. It has needed paintin' for some time now, but I never seemed to get around to it."

"Don't mention it, Hepsey," Jonathan replied affably. "Don't mention it. You're always doin' somethin' for me, and it's a pity if I can't do a little thing like that for you once in a while."

Hepsey had strolled round to the front, as if to admire his work, Jonathan following. Suddenly he came to a halt; his jaw dropped, and he stared as if he had gone out of his senses.

"Such a lovely color; gray just suits the house, you know," Mrs. Burke observed. "You certainly ought to have been an artist, Jonathan. Any man with such an eye for color ought not to be wastin' his time on a farm."

Jonathan still gazed at the porch in amazement, blinked hard, wiped his eyes and his glasses with his handkerchief, and looked again.

"What's th............