what she liked on mantelpieces. And I could
put her in jes as well with the gilded idol.'

"'You seem to do a lot of thinkin' in a mighty short time,' said Abner.
'But what's all that got to do with anything?'

"'Do!' exclaimed Sam. 'It's got lots to do. Why wouldn't she be a good
one for _her_? I don't believe you'd find a better one in Thompsontown.'

"'Sam Twitty!' exclaimed Abner, rather testily, 'what are you talkin'
about? Do you suppose I'd paint and paper and clean up and furnish one
side of my house for her, and then start out on a week's cruise to look
for her, and then take and put in her place and give everything I've
been gettin' for her for so many years to the fust woman I meet, and she
a toll-gate woman at that?'"

The Frenchman, who had been listening with great apparent interest, now
looked so inquiringly at the Master of the House that he paused in his
story.

"Excuse my interrupt," he said apologetically; "but what is toll-gate
woman?"

"My conscience!" exclaimed the captain, "you haven't understood a word
of my story!" He then proceeded to explain a toll-gate and its office
and emoluments; but it was at once evident that the Frenchman knew all
about the thing--he did not know the English words which expressed it;
and he had a clear comprehension of the narrative.

"Those two men pull two ways," he said gleefully; "ought to make a good
story."

"It is a good story if my papa tells it," spoke up the Daughter of the
House. And John Gayther was pleased to note a sharpness in her voice.

"Yes, miss; that is just what I say--a very much good story. I long for
the end to come."

"Not exactly the compliment intended," remarked the Mistress of the
House, with a smile.

"How do you think it will end?" asked the Daughter of the House,
impulsively, addressing the Frenchman.

"It is not polite to imagine," he replied.

"But I want to know," she persisted. "It is not impolite to guess."

"Well, then, miss, he marry nobody. Too many women in that Villa
Thompson. But we sadly interrupt! Beg pardon, captain."

"The captain I am telling about in my story," said the Master of the
House, resuming his narrative, "could not silence Sam Twitty.

"'Now I tell you, cap'n,' he said, as he assisted in taking the horse
out of the wagon, 'don't you go and miss a chance. Here's a fust-rate
woman, with red cheeks and mighty pretty hair, and a widow, too. Even if
you don't take her now, it's my advice that you