d on my head, as you might say, to
read it, and the end was on the ceilin'. One evenin' I was standin' on a
box with my mouth open and my neck half broke tryin' to see how it come
out when I tipped the lamp over. I'm a reg'lar book-worm, when I gits
where they's readin'."

"I mind the winter I bached on Crooked Crick I tamed a mouse," ventured
Lannigan. "He got so sociable he et out of my fingers."

"He shorely must have been fond of you." Ma Snow looked fixedly at
Lannigan's hands. "Mistah Hinds," turning sharply upon that person, who
was endeavoring by close inspection to tell whether the last card was a
king or queen, "the bacon's froze and there ain't a knife in yoah ol'
kitchen that will cut."

"Yes ma'am," murmured Mr. Hinds, hoping against hope that the statement
was not a command with his luck just beginning to turn and a sequence in
sight.

"If there ain't an aidge on one of them butcher knives that'll cut bread
when I start in to get supper--"

But Ma Snow did not deliver her ultimatum. In the first place it was not
necessary, for the cowed owner of the Hinds House knew perfectly well
what it was, and in the second, Uncle Bill arose suddenly and stood on
tiptoe looking through the window in something that approached
excitement. Nothing ordinary could jar Uncle Bill's composure--chairs
went over in the rush to join him at the window.

The stage was coming--with passengers! It was almost in--they could hear
the driver's--"Git ep, Eagle! Git ep, Nig! Git ep--git ep--git ep!"
There was luggage on behind and--Yankee Sam's voice broke as though it
were changing when he announced it--a female and two men!

Was this Uncle Bill's secret? Had he known? They could learn nothing
from his face and his mouth was shut so tight it looked as if he had the
lock-jaw.

Who was she? Where was she from? Did she have any money? Was she old or
young? Delicacy forbade them to go outside and look straight at a
strange lady but a dozen questions rose in every mind. Then
simultaneously the same thought came to each. Moved by a common impulse
they turned and stared suspiciously at Uncle Bill. Could it be--was it
possible that he had been advertising for a wife? Luring some trusting
female from her home by representing himself as a mining man forced to
reside in this mountain solitude near his valuable properties? Ore City
knew of cases like it; and he was just about the age to begin writing to
matrimonial bureaus.

Speculation