"I've come over to find a place to set down," he would tell his neighbors. "'Liz'beth's let things 'cumulate, till the house is a sight to see--she's gettin' dreadful slack, somehow. A man likes order when he goes home to rest from all his cares." Even when she died she displeased him by choosing a busy season for the occasion. "Just like 'Liz'beth, to die in hayin' time," he said. "Everything got to stop--hay spoilin'--men idle. Women never seem to have no system about work matters--no power of plannin' things, to make it convenient like for men folks." Yet after she was gone, Anson found how much help she had been to him, how wonderful her economy had been, how light her expenditures. He knew he could never find any one to replace her, in these respects, and as money considerations were the main ones in his mind he believed it would be the better economy to remain a widower, and hire his work done. So during those most critical years of Ben's life, he had been without a woman's guidance or care. At eighteen he was all that arrogance, conceit, selfishness, and high temper could render him. Yet he was a favorite with the fair sex for all that, as he had a manly figure, and a warm, caressing way when he chose, that won their admiration and pleased their vanity. Anson English favored early marriages, and began to think it would be better all around if Ben should bring a wife home. She could do the work better than hired help, and keep the money all in the family. And Ben would not waste his time and means on half a dozen, as he was now doing, but would stay at home, no doubt, and settle down into a sensible, practical business man. Yes, Ben ought to marry, and his father told him so. Ben smiled. "I'm already thinking of it," he said. He had expected opposition from his father, and was surprised at his suggestion. "Yes," continued the "old man," as Ben already designated him, "I'd like to see you settle down before you're twenty-one. But you want to make a good choice. There's Abby Wilson, now. She's got the muscle of a man, and ain't afraid of anything. And her father has a fine property--a growin' property. Abby'll make a man a good, vigorous helpmate, and she'll bring him money in time. You'd better shine up to Abby, Ben." Ben gave a contemptuous laugh. "I'd as soon marry a dressed-up boy," he said. "She's more like a boy than a girl in her looks and in her ways. I have other plans in my mind, father, more to my taste. I mean to marry Edith Gilman, if she'll take me, and I think she will." A dark frown contracted Anson English's brow. "Edith Gilman?" he repeated; "why, that puny schoolma'm, with her baby face and weak voice, 'll never help _you_ to get a livin', Ben. What are you thinkin' of?"