Was busy by the smoke-house this morning when Mr. Z. passed by. He has not spoken to me since the night he set the fires in the gale of wind and I had them put out. He has written me several notes demanding things, to which I have sent verbal answers, and I felt it was time to put a stop to that sort of thing, so as he passed I said in a clear, loud voice:—

"Good morning, Mr. Z."

I was bending over a table at the time, brushing off the hams preparatory to smoking them. He took no notice but passed on as though deaf. I straightened, up and said again in a clear voice:—

"Mr. Z., you did not perhaps hear me; I said 'Good morning.'"

He stopped and slowly raised his hat, said good morning and passed on, and I knew I had scored another victory.

About half an hour afterward he came back and said he would like to see me in the field where he was ploughing. I told him I would be at leisure in a minute and would join him in the field.

I went in to get my coat and told Chloe where I was going. She implored me not to go, but I soothed her fears, trying to laugh her out of them. When I got out into the field Mr. Z. asked me some trivial questions about where to plant things, and then he said:—

"You went too far with me the other night, Mrs. Pennington."

"Indeed?" I said.

"Yes," he said. "You told me I had no sense."