"'I can manage her,' said Brooke. 'The first morning after we are married I always say to my wife, "Here's the breeches; now if ye want 'em, take 'em, an' I'll put on the dress."' "He looked wise, then, as if 'twere a great argument. "'Always?' says I. 'God bless thee, 'tis an odd habit.' "Well, the boast o' Brooke went from one to another an' at last to the widow's ear. They say a look o' firmness an' resolution came into her face, an' late in August they were married of an evening at the home o' Brooke. Well, about then, I had been having trouble." "Trouble?" said Trove. "It was another's trouble--that of a client o' mine, a poor woman out in the country. Brooke had a mortgage on her cattle, an' she could not pay, an' I undertook to help her. I had some money due me, but was unable to put me hand on it. That day before the wedding I went to the old sinner. "'Brooke, I came to see about the Martha Vaughn mortgage,' says I." "Martha Vaughn!" said Trove, turning quickly. "Yes, one o' God's people," said the tinker. "Ye may have seen her?" "I have seen her," said Trove. "'At ten o'clock to-morrow I shall foreclose,' says Brooke, waving his fist. "'Give her a little time--till the day after to-morrow,--man, it is not much to ask,' says I. "'Not an hour,' says he; an' I came away." Darrel rose and put on his glasses and brought a newspaper and gave it to the boy. "Read that," said he, his finger on the story, "an' see what came of it." The article was entitled "A Rag Doll--The Story of a Money-lender whose Name, let us say, is Brown." After some account of the marriage and of bride and groom, the story went on as follows:-- "At midnight the charivari was heard--a noisy beating of pans and pots in the door-yard of the unhappy groom, who flung sticks of wood from the window, and who finally dispersed the crowd with an old shotgun. Bright and early next day came the milkman--a veteran of the war of 1812--who, agreeably with his custom, sounded the call of boots and saddles on his battered bugle at Brown's door. But none came to open it. The noon hour passed with no sign of life in the old house. "'Suthin' hes happened over there,' said his nearest neighbour, peering out of the window. 'Mebbe they've fit an' disabled each other.' "'You'd better go an' rap on the door,' said his wife. "He started, halting at his gate and looking over at the house of mystery. While he stood there, the door of the money-lender opened a little, and a head came out beckoning for help. He hurried to the door, that swung open as he came near it. "'Heavens!' said he, 'What is the matter?' "Brown stood behind the door, in a gown of figured calico, his feet bare, his shock of gray hair dishevelled. The gown was a poor fit, stopping just below the knees. "'That woman!' he gasped, sinking into a chair and making an angry gesture with his fist. 'That woman has got every pair o' breeches in the house.'