"What would I do with a rope?" queried Araminta, seriously.
"You funny, funny girl! Didn't you ever see a cow staked out in a pasture?"
"Yes. Am I a cow?"
"For the purposes of illustration, yes, and Aunt Hitty represents the stake. For eighteen or nineteen years, your rope has been so short that you could hardly move at all. Now things are changed, and I represent the stake. You've got the longest rope, now, that was ever made in one piece. See?"
"I'll come back," answered Araminta, seriously. "I don't think I need any rope at all."
"No, dear, I know that. I was only joking. You poor child, you've lived so long with that old dragon that you scarcely recognise a joke when you see one. A sense of humour, Araminta, is a saving grace for anybody. Next to Love, it's the finest gift of the gods."
"Have I got it?"
"I guess so. I think it's asleep, but we'll wake it up. Look here, dear—see what I brought you."
From his pocket, Ralph took a small purple velvet case, lined with white satin. Within was a ring, set with a diamond, small in circumference, but deep, and of unusual brilliancy. By a singular coincidence, it fitted Araminta's third finger exactly.
"Oh-h!" she cried, her cheeks glowing. "For me?"