Finally Jack Whiffer, who was of a first family, and was a store-clerk besides, proposed to Miss Wyett and was declined; then the young ladies of Bowerton thought that perhaps Helen Wyett had some sense after all. Then young Baggs, son of a deceased Congressman, wished to make Miss Wyett mistress of the Baggs mansion and sharer of the Baggs money, but his offer was rejected. Upon learning this fact, the maidens of Bowerton pronounced Helen a noble-spirited girl to refuse to take Baggs away from the dear, abused woman who had been engaged to him for a long time. Several other young men had been seen approaching the Wyett cottage in the full glory of broadcloth and hair-oil, and were noticeably depressed in spirits for days afterward, and the native ladies of marriageable age were correspondingly elated when they heard of it. When at last the one unmarried minister of Bowerton, who had been the desire of many hearts, manfully admitted that he had proposed and been rejected, and that Miss Wyett had informed him that she was already engaged, all the Bowerton girls declared that Helen Wyett was a darling old thing, and that it was perfectly shameful that she couldn’t be let alone. After thus proving that their own hearts were in the right place, all the Bowerton girls asked each other who the lucky man could be. Of course he couldn’t be a Bowerton man, for Miss Wyett was seldom seen in company with _any_ gentleman. He must be a Boston man—he was probably very literary—Boston men always were. Besides, if he was at all fit for her, he must certainly be very handsome. Suddenly Miss Wyett became the rage among the Bowerton girls. Blushingly and gushingly they told her of their own loves, and they showed her their lovers, or pictures of those gentlemen. Miss Wyett listened, smiled and sympathized, but when they sat silently expectant of similar confidences, they were disappointed, and when they endeavored to learn even the slightest particular of Helen Wyett’s love, she changed the subject of conversation so quickly and decidedly that they had not the courage to renew the attempt. But while most Bowertonians despaired of learning much more about the Wyetts, and especially about Helen’s lover, there was one who had resolved not only to know the favored man, but to do him some frightful injury, and that was little Guzzy. Though Guzzy’s frame was small, his soul was immense, and Helen’s failure to comprehend Guzzy’s greatness when he laid it all at her feet had made Guzzy extremely bilious and gloomy. Many a night, when Guzzy’s soul and body should have been taking their rest, they roamed in company up and down the quiet street on which the Wyetts’ cottage was located, and Guzzy’s eyes, instead of being fixed on sweet pictures in dreamland, gazed vigilantly in the direction of Mrs. Wyett’s gate.