“Waal, yew kain’t blame ’em fer not bein’ over pertik’lar about hearin,’” he said, bluntly. “When a gal’s run away an’ disgraced her fam’ly it’s ag’in natur not ter resent it a leetle.” Dollie Marlowe blushed to the roots of her hair. “Is that what you came to say to me, Sile?” she asked, hotly. “If it is, I’ll go on, for I’m tired and hungry.” “No, tain’t all,” said Silas, with a peculiar leer. “I’ve got sumthin’ else tew say tew ye, but I calkulate the street is no place tew say it.” “It will have to do, Silas,” said Dollie, decidedly, “for Marion is not at home, and I cannot ask you in. There is no one to hear; quick, what else have you to say to me?” “Waal, ef I must, I must,” was the drawling answer, “tho’ tain’t exac’ly the place fer a man ter pop ther question.” “What do you mean, Silas?” asked Dollie, sharply. “Oh, I knew yew’d be surprised,” said the fellow, arrogantly. “’Tain’t every respecterble man thet ud want ye, Dollie, but I’m willin’ ter take ye an’ dew what’s right by ye. Yew see, I’ve got a five hundred dollar mor’gige on yer father’s farm that’ll fall due in Janooary, an’ if yew’ll marry me, Dollie, I’ll give him ther paper; but ef yew won’t——” “What, then?” asked Dollie, trembling. “Then I’ll foreclose on him an’ turn em out,” was the decided answer. “It’s yew or the money, an’ the deacon ain’t got no money.” CHAPTER V. A SAD PARTING OF FRIENDS. When Dollie burst into the little room she was breathless with excitement and indignation. Much to her surprise, she found Marion there before her. “Oh, sister!” she blurted out, “Silas Johnson is here! And what do you think! he still wants me to marry him!” Marion stared at her in genuine astonishment. “What! Silas here in the city, and you have seen him, Dollie?” “I met him in this very block just as I was coming home,” said Dollie, pulling off her gloves, “and, oh, of all the awkward-looking gawks! I never realized before that Silas was so homely!” “That is because you had never seen stylish men before you came to New York,” said Marion, quickly; “I find myself comparing every one I ever met with Mr. Ray—city men are so handsome—and then they dress so much better.” “Silas had on a flannel shirt and cowhide shoes,” went on Dollie, laughing, “and I never before believed that they could look so ugly! But listen, Marion, he says he has a mortgage for five hundred dollars on father’s farm, but that as he thinks I could save him that amount in time he is willing to let it go if I will marry him!” “He expects you to earn it weeding gardens, milking cows and churning butter, I suppose,” said Marion scornfully. “But, sister, just think! Where will father get the money? He can never, never pay Sile such an amount, and he’ll turn them out if he doesn’t get the money!” “Turn them out of the old homestead!” exclaimed Marion, turning pale. “The thing is outrageous! He must never do it! Never!”