“I think, myself, that it would be an awful fate to be kissed by a man you didn't care for,” laughed Mrs. Baker. “Pole has made his rules to suit the men better than the women.”
“The second rule is this,” added Pole, with a smile, “an' that is, that whoever finds a red ear, man or woman, I git to kiss my wife.”
“Good, that's all right!” exclaimed Floyd, and everybody laughed as they set to work. Pole sat down near Floyd, and filled and lighted his pipe. “I used to think everything was fair in a game whar gals was concerned,” he said in an undertone. “I went to a shuckin' once whar they had these rules an' I got on to exactly what I see you are on to.”
“Me? What do you mean?” asked Floyd. “Why, you sly old dog, you are not shuckin' more than one ear in every three you pick up. You are lookin' to see ef the silk is dark. You have found out that a red ear always has dark silk.” Floyd laughed. “Don't give me away, Pole. I learned that when old man Scott used to send me out on a frosty morning to feed the cattle.”
“Well, I won't say nothin',” Pole promised. “Ef money was at stake, it 'ud be different, but they say all's fair whar wine an' women is concerned. Besides, the sharper a man is the better he'll provide fer the wife he gits, an' a man ought to be allowed to profit by his own experience. You go ahead; ef you root a red ear out o' that pile, old hog, I'll count you in.” Pole rose and went round the other side of the stack. There was a soft rustling sound as the husks were torn away and swept in rising billows behind the workers, and the steady thumping of the ears as they fell inside the barn.
It was not a fair game he was playing, and yet Nelson Floyd cared little for that. Even as it was, it was growing monotonous. He had come there to see Cynthia, and Pole's new rule was not what he had counted on. There was a lull in the merriment and general rustle, and Floyd heard Hattie Mayhew say in a clear tone: “I know why Cynthia is so quiet. It's because there wasn't somebody here to open with prayer.”
Floyd was watching Cynthia's face, and he saw it cloud over for a moment. She made some forced reply which he could not hear. It was Kitty Welborn's voice that came to him on her merry laugh.
“Oh, yes, Cynthia has us all beaten badly!” said that little blonde. “We worked our fingers to the bones fixing up his room. Cynthia didn't lay her hand to it, and yet he never looks at any one else while he is preaching, and as soon as the sermon is over he rushes for her. They say Mr. Porter thinks Mr. Hillhouse is watching him, and has quit going to sleep.”
“That's a fact,” said Fred Denslow, as he aimed a naked ear of corn at the barn-door and threw it. “The boys say Hillhouse will even let 'em cuss before him, just so they will listen to what he says about Miss Cynthia.”
“That isn't fair to Miss Cynthia,” Nelson Floyd observed, suddenly. “I'm afraid you are making it pretty hot for her on that side, so I'm going to invite her over here. You see I have found the first red ear of corn, and it's big enough to count double.”