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“More than enough for me, thank you,” said Melissa sarcastically.

“Isaac is a fine man and has a lovely house; and you aren’t sure the Kingsbridge man really means anything,” I went on.

“I would rather,” said Melissa, with the same awful calmness, “jump down from this roof and break my neck, or be devoured piecemeal by that fiend down there than marry Isaac Appleby.”

It didn’t seem worth while to say anything more after that. We sat there in stony silence and the time dragged by. I was hot, hungry, thirsty, cross; and besides, I felt that I was in a ridiculous position, which was worse than all the rest. We could see Isaac sitting in the shade of one of his apple trees in the front orchard comfortably reading a newspaper. I think if he hadn’t aggravated me by doing that I’d have given in sooner. But as it was, I was determined to be as stubborn as everybody else. We were four obstinate creatures–Isaac and Melissa and Julius Caesar and I.

At four o’clock Isaac got up and went into the house; in a few minutes he came out again with a basket in one hand and a ball of cord in the other.

“I don’t intend to starve you, of course, ladies,” he said politely, “I will throw this ball up to you and you can then draw up the basket.”

I caught the ball, for Melissa never turned her head. I would have preferred to be scornful, too, and reject the food altogether; but I was so dreadfully thirsty that I put my pride in my pocket and hauled the basket up. Besides, I thought it might enable us to hold out until some loophole of escape presented itself.

Isaac went back into the house and I unpacked the basket. There was a bottle of milk, some bread and butter, and a pie. Melissa wouldn’t take a morsel of the food, but she was so thirsty she had to take a drink of milk.

She tried to lift her veil–and something caught; Melissa gave it a savage twitch, and off came veil and hat–and all her front hair!

You never saw such a sight. I’d always suspected Melissa wore a false front, but I’d never had any proof before.

Melissa pinned on her hair again and put on her hat and drank the milk, all without a word; but she was purple. I felt sorry for her.

And I felt sorry for Isaac when I tried to eat that bread. It was sour and dreadful. As for the pie, it was hopeless. I tasted it, and then threw it down to Julius Caesar. Julius Caesar, not being over particular, ate it up. I thought perhaps it would kill him, for anything might come of eating such a concoction. That pie was a strong argument for Isaac. I thought a man who had to live on such cookery did indeed need a wife and might be pardoned for taking desperate measures to get one. I was dreadfully tired of broiling on the roof anyhow.

But it was the thunderstorm that decided me. When I saw it coming up, black and quick, from the northwest, I gave in at once. I had endured a good deal and was prepared to endure more; but I had paid ten dollars for my hat and I was not going to have it ruined by a thunderstorm. I called to Isaac and out he came.

“If you will let us down and promise to dispose of that dog before I come here I will marry you, Isaac,” I said, “but I’ll make you sorry for it afterwards, though.”

“I’ll take the risk of that, Anne,” he said; “and, of course, I’ll sell the dog. I won’t need him when I have you.”

Isaac meant to be complimentary, though you mightn’t have thought so if you had seen the face of that dog.

Isaac ordered Julius Caesar away and put up the ladder, and turned his back, real considerately, while we climbed down. We had to go in his house and stay till the shower was over. I didn’t forget the object of our call and I produced our subscription list at once.

“How much have you got?” asked Isaac.

“Seventy dollars and we want a hundred and fifty,” I said.

“You may put me down for the remaining eighty, then,” said Isaac calmly.

The Applebys are never mean where money is concerned, I must say.

Isaac offered to drive us home when it cleared up, but I said “No.” I wanted to settle Melissa before she got a chance to talk.

On the way home I said to her:

“I hope you won’t mention this to anyone, Melissa. I don’t mind marrying Isaac, but I don’t want people to know how it came about.”

“Oh, I won’t say anything about it,” said Melissa, laughing a little disagreeably.

“Because,” I said, to clinch the matter, looking significantly at her front hair as I said it, “I have something to tell, too.”

Melissa will hold her tongue.