ack.

Mr. Weeks was a little disconcerted but resumed, "I believe she called
on your wife once?"

"Yes," the farmer replied laconically. "I was away and did not see her."

"Well, now," pursued Mr. Weeks, "she's a good soul. She has her little
peculiarities; so have you and me, a lot of 'em; but she's thoroughly
respectable, and there isn't a man or woman in the town that would
think of saying a word against her. She has only one child, a nice,
quiet little girl who'd be company for her mother and make everything
look right, you know."

"I don't see what there's been to look wrong," growled the farmer.

"Nothing to me and my folks, of course, or I wouldn't suggest the idea
of a relation of my wife coming to live with you. But you see people
will talk unless you stop their mouths so they'll feel like fools in
doing it. I know yours has been a mighty awkward case, and here's a
plain way out of it. You can set yourself right and have everything
looked after as it ought to be, in twenty-four hours. We've talked to
Cynthy--that's Mrs. Mumpson--and she takes a sight of interest. She'd
do well by you and straighten things out, and you might do a plaguey
sight worse than give her the right to take care of your indoor affairs
for life."

"I don't expect to marry again," said Holcroft curtly.

"Oh, well! Many a man and woman has said that and believed it, too, at
the time. I'm not saying that my wife's cousin is inclined that way
herself. Like enough, she isn't at all, but then, the right kind of
persuading does change women's minds sometimes, eh? Mrs. Mumpson is
kinder alone in the world, like yourself, and if she was sure of a good
home and a kind husband there's no telling what good luck might happen
to you. But there'll be plenty of time for considering all that on
both sides. You can't live like a hermit."

"I was thinking of selling out and leaving these parts," Holcroft
interrupted.

"Now look here, neighbor, you know as well as I do that in these times
you couldn't give away the place. What's the use of such foolishness?
The thing to do is to keep the farm and get a good living out of it.
You've got down in the dumps and can't see what's sensible and to your
own advantage."

Holcroft was thinking deeply, and he turned his eyes wistfully to the
upland slopes of his farm. Mr. Weeks had talked plausibly, and if all
had been as he represented, the plan would not have been a bad one.
But the widower d