he
German woman worked in a field and had no books, but she brought tears
to the eyes of the Empress, with a little poem, dug up out of the
ground."

"That sounds all right enough," said Warren, "but I don't know about
its truth. It strikes me--and I like to think about it--that, if Nancy
had been schooled and all that, she could have written about the
sweetest poetry that ever was sent out."

Lyman smiled at his friend. "Education would undoubtedly assist her in
the writing of verses," said he. "The log school-house would have
given her the expression for poetry."

"May be so. But I don't want her to write. She'd fill up the paper and
hurt the circulation. Sad day for a newspaper man when his wife fills
up the paper. By the way, I forgot to tell you that I had a talk with
the old man. I went out to the field with him after dinner; he was
cutting oak sprouts from among the young corn and we had quite a chat.
I reminded him of the fact that I hadn't known his daughter long, but
I gave him to understand that I was all right. I told him that the
express company had a high regard for me, and this made him open his
eyes. He gradually caught my drift, and then he leaned on his hoe and
laughed till the tears ran down his face; and I didn't have anything
to lean on, so I took hold of the hoe handle and laughed too. After
awhile the absurdity of the situation struck him, both of us leaning
on a hoe, laughing fit to kill ourselves, and then he shook me off.
But I wasn't to be put off this way. I told him I guessed I had to
have some place to laugh, and I grabbed the hoe-handle again, and went
on with my tittering. 'Young fellow,' he said, 'you just about suit
me. You won't stay shuck off, and that's the sort of a man that gets
next to me.' So we shook hands and without another word on the tender
subject we went on talking about something else. Oh, he's all right,
and the girl is too, I think. I don't know about the mother, but she
is blue-eyed and tender-looking and I think she'll give in. Have you
seen the banker lately?"

"I met him in the street this morning and spoke to him, and he bowed
very politely. I've been thinking. Suppose my serial story should be
accepted and they should send me a check. How could I get it cashed
without going to his bank? And if any royalties should come from the
sale of my book, what then? There's no other way open and I'll have to
do business through his bank."

"That will be all right, if