"Why couldn't I get the situation?" flashed through William's mind, but he said nothing to his wife until he had finished his out door work; and Anna had soothed her baby to sleep, laid it in the cradle--swept the hearth, and sat down to her sewing, with her foot upon the rocker. "What are you thinking of, Willie?" she asked playfully. "You seem to be looking as earnestly into the fire, as if you were expecting your new cart and oxen to come walking out of it into the room." William smiled as he turned to look at her; and after a moment's hesitation said, "Wife, I've been thinking it all over, about what Squire Lee said, and I've about come to the conclusion, to apply for the situation myself. That is," he continued, seeing her look of astonishment, "if Edward does not choose to come back." Anna gazed intently at him for a moment, and then exclaimed, "William Reynolds, I really believe you are going mad. Aren't you well?" she asked, changing her tone. William made a faint attempt to laugh as he said, "I expected you'd be astonished at first; but the fact is, you know I haven't felt well lately." Anna looked anxious, as this was the first intimation she had received of his sickness. "And to tell the truth, I always thought it was a foolish move in Edward to give up such a good place for so trifling a matter, and it was so pleasant having him here." "It was, indeed," replied Anna with a sigh. "If the whole must be known," resumed William, "when I went to market, and had been hawing and geeing all day, and called at the Squire's and saw Edward sitting there so cozy and comfortable with nothing to do, but just to write from morning till night; his salary sure, rain or shine, crops good or bad; I almost envied him." "But what could you do with the farm?" interrupted Anna. "I could get a man to take care of it. There's Joe Clark would take it to the halves, and be glad of the chance. I heard him talking so to a man not more'n a week ago."