THE SIDE PORCH

In the evening, after his work was done, a day or two after his talk
with Mrs. Maxwell, Jonathan went into the house and took a long look
at himself in the glass, with the satisfactory conclusion that he
didn't look so old after all. Why shouldn't he take Mrs. Betty's
advice and marry? To be sure, there was no fool like an old fool, but
no man could be called a fool who was discriminating enough, and
resourceful enough, to win the hand of Hepsey Burke. To his certain
knowledge she had had plenty of eligible suitors since her husband's
death. She was the acknowledged past-master of doughnuts; and her
pickled cucumbers done in salad oil were dreams of delight. What more
could a man want?

So he found that the question was deciding itself apparently without
any volition whatever on his part. His fate was sealed; he had lost
his heart and his appetite to his neighbor. Having come to this
conclusion, it was wonderful how the thought excited him. He took a
bath and changed his clothes, and then proceeded to town and bought
himself a white neck-tie, and a scarf-pin that cost seventy-five
cents. He was going to do the thing in the proper way if he did it at
all.

After supper he mustered sufficient courage to present himself at the
side porch where Mrs. Burke was knitting on a scarlet sweater for
Nickey.

"Good evenin', Hepsey," he began. "How are you feelin' to-night?"

"Oh, not so frisky as I might, Jonathan; I'd be all right if it
weren't for my rheumatiz."

"Well, we all have our troubles, Hepsey; and if it isn't one thing
it's most generally another. You mustn't rebel against rheumatiz. It's
one of those things sent to make us better, and we must bear up
against it, you know."

Hepsey did not respond to this philosophy, and Jonathan felt that it
was high time that he got down to business. So he began again:

"It seems to me as if we might have rain before long if the wind don't
change."

"Shouldn't be surprised, Jonathan. One--two--three--four--" Mrs. Burke
replied, her attention divided between her visitor and her sweater.
"Got your hay all in?"

"Yes, most of it. 'Twon't be long before the long fall evenin's will
be comin' on, and I kinder dread 'em. They're awful lonesome,
Hepsey."

"Purl two, knit two, an inch and a half--" Mrs. Burke muttered to
herself as she read the printed directions which lay in her lap, and
then she added encouragingly:

"So you get lonesome, do you, Jonathan