"Well," said he doubtfully, "of course, that's not quite as desirable as a widow would be, is it now? To take care of my daughter, I mean. Still, in some ways an old maid is better. More particular, you'd be. And what's more, you are born blue-blooded, not just married to it!" "Mr. Pegg," said I, "will you not set forth the exact nature of the occupation you propose for me?" "That's it!" he cried, thumping the table. "That's the stuff exactly. "I beg pardon?" said I. "Talk like that!" he shouted. "And learn her to talk the same--give her some class!" "You expect me to teach your daughter grammar?" "Teach her everything!" said the giant. "Polish her up; finish her off--but not by instructin' her. My Lord, no! She'd never stand for it! Just stick round--be with her--let a little Boston rub off on her, and set her right when she makes a break." "A sort of governess?" I ventured. "Companion, chaperon--you get me!" said her parent, and leaned back in his chair beaming satisfaction. "Now look-a-here, Miss Talbot, I'll put the matter straight to you. I am a rich man, but I'm a roughneck and I know it. There is a few things I ain't been able to buy for myself, and refinement is one of them. But I calculate to pry off a little for my Peaches--no culls on this family tree if a little pruning and grafting can turn it into a perfect Seedless Apperson. Does that mean anything to you?" I reflected a moment, and though the man's actual terminology was unintelligible to me the sense of his imagery was somehow perfectly clear. "You speak of her as a young tree!" said I. "I think I do understand. 'Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclined.'" This plainly interested him. "True!" he exclaimed. "Just that. Well, as I was saying, I've just cleaned up the biggest deal the California fruit growers ever heard of--and I started out as a picker with a bunch of Hindus, getting four cents a lug for oranges! To-day I've got--well, it don't matter how many millions; and a daughter that's never been let off the home ranch until three weeks ago. Her mother died when she come. Well--never mind that either! And now I've made my haul and I've got a little time to give her--and to living generally. I'm a practical man, Miss Talbot. When I commence grafting a new orchard of Golden Americans on a twenty-acre stretch of old wild stock I cut, splice and bind it right, and I don't hurry myself until I get the grafts I want and the proper season and everything. And the same with the culture of my American Beauty. I've left her grow strong and wild for twenty years now, and she's about ready for cultivation. And I feel you are the right one for the job. You are hired!" "But my dear Mr. Pegg!" I protested. "You really are not in the least informed as to my qualifications."