A Colonial Wooing
received. It ran as follows: Dear John,—I am playing a part now that I was not told to do. Father will surely send back the other chest, so I have filled the one that goes to the boat with rubbish, and hope my other will safely reach you before I need its contents. Can thee not send it to cousin Pearson's? I have not time to add any loving words, and why should I? unless cousin is over-confident. Let us hope not.—Ruth.
John read the note over and over again; then closing the little book, he arranged his dress, putting on an outer coat, and from behind a pile of oak and ash strips that were used in his work took a stout hickory cane. Then, stepping out, he carefully locked the doors and turned towards Crosswicks Creek. It was not as dark as he wished, but he looked at the sky and saw with evident satisfaction that the night bid fair to be cloudy before very long. Avoiding the highway where bounded by open fields, John walked rapidly, swinging the stout cane and at times striking viciously at the twigs that crossed his path. At heart John was a Quaker, no
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