After being properly vested in a cassock two sizes too large for him, Nickey started on a dead run for home, and, having reached the barn, dressed himself in his customary attire. When he appeared at supper Mrs. Burke did not say anything; but after the dishes were washed she took him apart and listened to his version of the affair. "Nicholas Burke," she said, "if this thing occurs again I shall punish you in a way you won't like." "Well, I'm awfully sorry," said Nickey, "but it didn't seem to feaze Mr. Maxwell a little bit. He just sat and roared as if he'd split his sides. I guess I 'aint goin' to be put out of the church just yet, anyway." Mrs. Burke looked a bit annoyed. "Never mind about Mr. Maxwell. _You_ won't laugh if anything like this occurs again, I can tell you," she replied. "Now, ma," soothed Nickey, "don't you worry about it occurrin' again. You don't suppose I did it on purpose, do you? Gosh no! I wouldn't get onto Charley's back again, with my clothes off, any more than I'd sit on a hornet's nest. How'd you like to ride through the town with nothin' on but your swimmin' trunks and drippin' with bluin water, I'd like to know?" Mrs. Burke did not care to prolong the interview any further, so she said in her severest tones: "Nicholas Burke, you go to bed instantly. I've heard enough of you and seen enough of you, for one day." Nickey went. [Illustration] CHAPTER XIV ON THE SIDE PORCH In the evening, after his work was done, a day or two after his talk with Mrs. Maxwell, Jonathan went into the house and took a long look at himself in the glass, with the satisfactory conclusion that he didn't look so old after all. Why shouldn't he take Mrs. Betty's advice and marry? To be sure, there was no fool like an old fool, but no man could be called a fool who was discriminating enough, and resourceful enough, to win the hand of Hepsey Burke. To his certain knowledge she had had plenty of eligible suitors since her husband's death. She was the acknowledged past-master of doughnuts; and her pickled cucumbers done in salad oil were dreams of delight. What more could a man want? So he found that the question was deciding itself apparently without any volition whatever on his part. His fate was sealed; he had lost his heart and his appetite to his neighbor. Having come to this conclusion, it was wonderful how the thought excited him. He took a bath and changed his clothes, and then proceeded to town and bought himself a white neck-tie, and a scarf-pin that cost seventy-five cents. He was going to do the thing in the proper way if he did it at all. After supper he mustered sufficient courage to present himself at the side porch where Mrs. Burke was knitting on a scarlet sweater for Nickey. "Good evenin', Hepsey," he began. "How are you feelin' to-night?" "Oh, not so frisky as I might, Jonathan; I'd be all right if it weren't for my rheumatiz."