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, durin' the long evenin's, when it gets dark early."

"Oh, awful lonesome," Jonathan responded. "Don't you ever get lonesome yourself, Hepsey?"

"I can't say as it kept me awake nights. 'Tisn't bein' alone that makes you lonesome. The most awful lonesomeness in the world is bein' in a crowd that's not your kind."

"That's so, Hepsey. But two isn't a crowd. Don't you think you'd like to get married, if you had a right good chance, now?"

Hepsey gave her visitor a quick, sharp glance, and inquired:

"What would you consider a right good chance, Jonathan?"

"Oh, suppose that some respectable widower with a tidy sum in the bank should ask you to marry him; what would you say, Hepsey?"

"Can't say until I'd seen the widower, to say nothin' of the bank book--one, two, three, four, five, six--"

Jonathan felt that the crisis was now approaching; so, moving his chair a little nearer, he resumed excitedly:

"You've seen him, Hepsey; you've seen him lots of times, and he don't live a thousand miles away, neither."

"Hm! Must be he lives in Martin's Junction. Is he good lookin', Jonathan?"

"Oh, fair to middlin'. That is--of course--I well--I--I should think he was; but tastes differ."

"Well, you know I'm right particular, Jonathan. Is he real smart and clever?"

"I don't know as--I ought to--to--say, Hepsey; but I rather guess he knows enough to go in when it rains."

"That's good as far as it goes. The next time you see him, you tell him to call around and let me look him over. Maybe I could give him a job on the farm, even if I didn't want to marry him."

"But he doesn't want any job on the farm, Hepsey. He just wants you, that's all."

"How do you know he does? Did he ever tell you?"

"Hepsey Burke, don't you know who I'm alludin' at? Haven't you ever suspected nothin'?"

"Yes, I've suspected lots of things. Now there's Jack Dempsey. I've suspected him waterin' the milk for some time. Haven't you ever suspected anythin' yourself, Jonathan?"

"Well, I guess I'm suspectin' that you're tryin' to make a fool of me, all right."

"Oh no! Fools come ready-made, and there's a glut in the market just now; seven--eight--nine--ten; no use makin' more until the supply's exhausted. But what made you think you wanted to marry? This is so powerful sudden."

Now that the point was reached, Jonathan got a little nervous: "To--to tell you the truth, Hepsey," he stuttered, "I was in doubt about it myself for some time; but bein' as I am a Christian man I turned to the Bible for light on my path."

"Hm! And how did the light shine?"

"Well, I just shut my eyes and opened my Bible at random, and put my finger on a text. Then I opened my eyes and read what was written."

"Yes! What did you find?"

"I r............