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"Saw her at Buckolt's sliprails!" cried Jim, starting up. "Well, he couldn't have had time to more than say good-bye to her, for I was with her there myself, and Harry caught up to me within a mile of the gate and I rode pretty fast." "He had a jolly long good-bye with her," shouted Uncle Abel. "Look here, Jim!
"Well, all I can say," said Tommy, quietened now, "is that I seen her at Buckolts' Gate that night. I was comin' home from Two-Mile Flat, and I met Jim with his packhorse about a mile the other side of Buckolts', and while we was talkin' Harry Dale caught up, so I jist said 'So-long' an' left 'em. And when I got to Buckolt's Gate I seen Bertha Buckolt.
"Well," said Uncle Abel, "why didn't she get the writin's as I told her? It's to be hoped she won't make such a fool of herself next time." Half an hour later, or thereabouts, Mary sat on Bertha Buckolt's bed, with Bertha beside her and Bertha's arm round her, and they were crying and laughing by turns. "But-but-why didn't you tell me it was Jim?" said Mary.
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