"Well, we all have our troubles, Hepsey; and if it isn't one thing it's most generally another. You mustn't rebel against rheumatiz. It's one of those things sent to make us better, and we must bear up against it, you know." Hepsey did not respond to this philosophy, and Jonathan felt that it was high time that he got down to business. So he began again: "It seems to me as if we might have rain before long if the wind don't change." "Shouldn't be surprised, Jonathan. One--two--three--four--" Mrs. Burke replied, her attention divided between her visitor and her sweater. "Got your hay all in?" "Yes, most of it. 'Twon't be long before the long fall evenin's will be comin' on, and I kinder dread 'em. They're awful lonesome, Hepsey." "Purl two, knit two, an inch and a half--" Mrs. Burke muttered to herself as she read the printed directions which lay in her lap, and then she added encouragingly: "So you get lonesome, do you, Jonathan, durin' the long evenin's, when it gets dark early." "Oh, awful lonesome," Jonathan responded. "Don't you ever get lonesome yourself, Hepsey?" "I can't say as it kept me awake nights. 'Tisn't bein' alone that makes you lonesome. The most awful lonesomeness in the world is bein' in a crowd that's not your kind." "That's so, Hepsey. But two isn't a crowd. Don't you think you'd like to get married, if you had a right good chance, now?" Hepsey gave her visitor a quick, sharp glance, and inquired: "What would you consider a right good chance, Jonathan?" "Oh, suppose that some respectable widower with a tidy sum in the bank should ask you to marry him; what would you say, Hepsey?" "Can't say until I'd seen the widower, to say nothin' of the bank book--one, two, three, four, five, six--" Jonathan felt that the crisis was now approaching; so, moving his chair a little nearer, he resumed excitedly: "You've seen him, Hepsey; you've seen him lots of times, and he don't live a thousand miles away, neither." "Hm! Must be he lives in Martin's Junction. Is he good lookin', Jonathan?" "Oh, fair to middlin'. That is--of course--I well--I--I should think he was; but tastes differ." "Well, you know I'm right particular, Jonathan. Is he real smart and clever?" "I don't know as--I ought to--to--say, Hepsey; but I rather guess he knows enough to go in when it rains." "That's good as far as it goes. The next time you see him, you tell him to call around and let me look him over. Maybe I could give him a job on the farm, even if I didn't want to marry him." "But he doesn't want any job on the farm, Hepsey. He just wants you, that's all." "How do you know he does? Did he ever tell you?" "Hepsey Burke, don't you know who I'm alludin' at? Haven't you ever suspected nothin'?" "Yes, I've suspected lots of things. Now there's Jack Dempsey. I've suspected him waterin' the milk for some time. Haven't you ever suspected anythin' yourself, Jonathan?"