She handed out exac'ly that many pairs of mittens--handed 'em out with such a sorry look in them kind eyes of hern, that the courtin' quartette got worse in love with her 'n ever. Anybody could a' seen _that_ with one eye. They all begun shavin' twicet a week, most ev'ry one of 'em bought new things to wear, and--best sign of _any_--they stopped drinkin'! Ev'ry day 'r so, back they'd track to visit the widda. She didn't like that fer a cent. Wasn't nary one of 'em that suited her, and just when the chickens 'r the cholo gals needed her, here was a Briggs City galoot a-crossin' the yard. "Sorry," she says to Macie, "but I'll have to give them gents they walkin'-papers. If I don't, I won't never git a lick done." "Bully fer you!" Mace answers. "It'll be good riddance of bad rubbish. They're too gally." (Somethin' like that, anyhow.) "Learn 'em to act like they was civylised. But, say, Mrs. Bridger, you--you ain't a-goin' to give the rinky-dink to the Sheriff?" "Mister Bergin," answers the widda, "ain't bothered me none." (Mace was shore they was tears in her eyes.) "Aw--_haw!_" I says, when the little gal tole me. _I_ savvied. That same afternoon, whilst the widda was a-settin' on the shady side of the house, sewin' on carpet-rags, up come Sam Barnes. (It was Monday.) "Mrs. Bridger," he begun, "I'm a-goin' to ast you to think over what I said to you last week. I don't want to be haidstrong, but I'd like to git a 'yas' outen you." "Mister Barnes," she says. "I'm feard I cain't say yas. I ain't thinkin' of marryin'. But if I was, it'd be to a man that's--that's big, and tall, and has blue eyes." And she looked out at the sand-pile, and sighed. "Wal," says Sam, "I reckon I don't fit specifications." And he hiked fer town. He was plumb huffy when he tole me about it. "Fer a woman," he says, "that's got to look after herself, and has a kid on her hands to boot, she's got more airs'n a windmill." Next! That was Chub. Now, Chub, he knowed a heap about handlin' a gun, and I reckon he'd pass as a liv'ry-stable keeper, but he didn't know much about _women_. So, when he went down to ast the widda fer the second time, he put his foot in it by bein' kinda short t' little Willie. "Say, kid," he says, "you locate over in that rockin'-chair yonder. Young uns of you' age should be saw and not heerd." Mrs. Bridger, she sit right up, and her eye-winkers just snapped. "Mister Flannagan," she Says, "I'm feard you're wastin' you' time a-callin' here. If ever I marry again, it's goin' t' be a man that's fond of childern." Wal, ta-ta, Chub! And, behind, there was the widda at the winda, all eyes fer that sand-pile. We never knowed what she said to Dutchy's brother, August. But he come back to town lookin' madder'n a wet hen. "Huh!" he says, "I don't vant her _no_how. _She_ couldn't vork. She's pretty fer _nice,_ all right, but she's nichts fer stoudt."