"Until she goes to a home of her own," added her cousin, with a mischievous smile. "I wouldn't be guilty of match-making; but I own I had a purpose in asking my friend Irving to stand as groomsman with Virginia. How do you like him, my sweet cousin?--be honest now." "Not as well as I have liked some other man, sir?" "Oh, of course, not yet; but you'll grow to it; and he has no stain upon his escutcheon--he isn't even a flour-merchant or mill-owner." "You haven't told me what he is yet," said Virginia, with a slight show of interest. "He's my book-keeper." "Oh, Philip! you're jesting." "No, indeed, I'm not. He has not a cent, saving his salary; but he's a gentleman and a scholar, and has seen better days." "Well, I like him, anyhow," she remarked, presently. "You ought to encourage him to pay his addresses to you. You could teach school, and he could keep books. You could take a suite of three rooms, and wait upon yourselves. I'll promise to furnish the rooms with dimity, delf, and rag-carpeting." "You are generous, Philip." "And to send you an occasional barrel of flour and load of refuse kindling-wood." "My prospects brighten." "Don't tease the girl," said the raftsman, "she'll do better'n you think for yet. Since my own chick has deserted me for another nest, I don't know but I shall adopt Virginia myself." "I wish you would," and the great black eyes were turned to him with a mournful, lonely look. "Everybody else is so happy and blessed, they do not need me. But I should love to wait upon you, and cheer you, sir." It was a great change which misfortune was working in the spirit of the proud and ambitious girl. Philip, who knew her so well, regarded her present mood with surprise. "Well, well, without joking, I intend to adopt this orphan girl. She's the sister of my own dead wife, and she shall share equally with my little Alice in all that the rough old raftsman has." "Which won't be much, father," said Alice, with a smile, glancing around upon their humble forest home. "Don't be too sure of that, little one. I haven't felled pine logs and sawed lumber for fifteen years to no account. Did you think your two dresses a year, your slippers, and straw-hats had eaten up all the money-bags I brought home with me upon my trips? Here's a check for five thousand dollars, puss, to furnish that new house with; and when Philip gets time to 'tend to it, the cash is ready to put up a steam saw-mill nigh about here, somewhere--the income to be yours. It'll bring you in a nice little bit of pocket-money. And if Virginia concludes to accept that pale-faced book-keeper, thar's an equal sum laid aside for her--and home and money as much as she wants in the mean time. It shan't be said the old raftsman's pretty daughters had no wedding portion." Virginia took his rough hand in her two white ones, and a tear mingled with the kiss which she pressed upon it. CHAPTER XIII. THE TORNADO.