as sweet-tempered as a dove,
and nobody could find a speck of dirt in her house if he was to search
all day with a lantern.

[Illustration: TOBY AND THE CRAZY LOON.]

"Toby thought about it for a long time. He did not wish to take any
rash step, but his back got lamer and stiffer, and when one day the
soup burned on to the kettle, and he dropped some stitches in his
stocking running to lift it off, he made up his mind.

"The very next morning after his six grandchildren had gone to school,
he put on his coat with phosphorescent buttons, lit his lantern, and
started out. _Link, link, bobolink_! cried the crazy loon as he went
out the door.

"'Yes; I am going to bring home a pleasant and neat mistress for you,
and maybe you will recover your reason,' said Toby.

"_Link, link, bobolink_! cried the crazy loon.

"Toby limped away through the darkness. The wind was blowing hard that
morning, and as he turned the corner, puff! came a gust and blew out
his lantern.

"He felt in every pocket, but he had not a match in one of them. He
hesitated whether to go back for one or not. Finally, he thought he
knew the way pretty well and would risk it. His back was worse than
ever that morning, and he did not want to take any unnecessary steps.
So he fumbled along until he came to the street where the widow's home
was; there were five more just like hers, and they stood in a row
together.

"Much to Toby's dismay, there was not a light in either.

"'Well,' he reflected, 'she is prudent, and is saving her oil, I dare
say, and I can inquire.'

"So he felt his way along to the first house in the row--he could just
see them looming up in the darkness. He poked his head inside the
door. 'Mrs. Clover-leaf!' cried he, 'are you in there? My lantern has
gone out, and I cannot tell which is your house.'

"There came a little grunt in reply.

"'Mrs. Clover-leaf!' cried Toby again.

"'I am here; what do you want?' answered a voice in the darkness.

"It was so sharp that Toby felt for a moment as if his ears were being
sawed off, and he clapped his hands on them involuntarily. 'Bless me!
I had forgotten that Mrs. Clover-leaf had such a voice,' thought he.

"'What do you want?' said the voice again.

"It did not sound quite so sharp this time. He had become a little
used to it, and, after all, a sharp voice would not prevent her being
neat and pleasant and stirring the soup carefully.

"So he said, as sweetly and coaxingly as he w