quite another thing for him to lend the countenance of gaiters and apron to a lady in a skirt of extreme brevity and a head handkerchief. To add to her perplexity the steamer sailed in the glaring publicity of three o'clock in the afternoon.
The plan which suggested itself in the end was ingenious. She made up her harvesting clothes into a brown paper parcel, and walked to the steamer in her ordinary costume, timing herself to arrive two hours before it sailed. She planned to change her clothes in the cabin before any of the harvesting girls arrived. There was only one drawback. She would be obliged to conceal her dress and hat somewhere, and might never be able to recover them. But, then, no great work can be accomplished without some sacrifice. On her way down she posted a letter to the Archdeacon explaining her plans fully. She knew that it would not be delivered until she was far out of reach of expostulation.
She approached an officer who was blasphemously assisting in the embarkation of some bullocks, and asked him for the harvesters' cabin.
"Bless my soul, ma'am, the company doesn't provide cabins for the likes of them."
"But the women, my good man. You don't mean to say that the women spend the whole night on deck?"
It appeared, however, that they did. Mrs. Crossley was seriously embarrassed. The prospect of a
