hat there was much truth in what he said, albeit they didn't
entirely understand it, and what they did understand--except the man's
good-humored motive--was not particularly interesting. In fact they
were slightly disappointed. What had promised to be an audaciously
flirtatious declaration, and even a mischievous suggestion of marriage,
had resolved itself into something absurdly practical and business-like.

Not so Mr. Harkutt. He quickly rose from his chair, and, leaning over
the table, with his eyes fixed on the card as if it really signified the
railroad, repeated quickly: "Railroad, eh! What's that? A railroad to
Tasajara Creek? Ye don't mean it!--That is--it ain't a SURE thing?"

"Perfectly sure. The money is ready in San Francisco now, and by this
time next year--"

"A railroad to Tasajara Creek!" continued Harkutt hurriedly. "What part
of it? Where?"

"At the embarcadero naturally," responded Grant. "There isn't but the
one place for the terminus. There's an old shanty there now belongs to
somebody."

"Why, pop!" said Phemie with sudden recollection, "ain't it 'Lige
Curtis's house? The land he offered"--

"Hush!" said her father.

"You know, the one written in that bit of paper," continued the innocent
Phemie.

"Hush! will you? God A'mighty! are you goin' to mind me? Are you goin'
to keep up your jabber when I'm speakin' to the gentlemen? Is that your
manners? What next, I wonder!"

The sudden and unexpected passion of the speaker, the incomprehensible
change in his voice, and the utterly disproportionate exaggeration of
his attitude towards his daughters, enforced an instantaneous silence.
The rain began to drip audibly at the window, the rush of the river
sounded distinctly from without, even the shaking of the front part
of the dwelling by the distant gale became perceptible. An angry flash
sprang for an instant to the young assistant's eye, but it met the
cautious glance of his friend, and together both discreetly sought the
table. The two girls alone remained white and collected. "Will you go on
with my fortune, Mr. Grant?" said Phemie quietly.

A certain respect, perhaps not before observable, was suggested in the
surveyor's tone as he smilingly replied, "Certainly, I was only waiting
for you to show your confidence in me," and took up the cards.

Mr. Harkutt coughed. "It looks as if that blamed wind had blown suthin'
loose in the store," he said affectedly. "I reckon I'll go and see." He
hes