"Yes! yes! I will!" exclaimed Ulrica, much delighted at the thought; "but it shall have no buttons: we cannot find buttons." "Wilhelm Sachs will make them for me out of tin: that will do very well, just for a show," said Jan. "It is not for money; but only that they shine and be round." So after supper Ulrica took the roll of blue cloth out of the chest, and began to measure off the breadths. "How tell you that it is right?" said Jan. "By my heart," said the loving Ulrica: "I know mine child her size by my heart. It vill be right." But for all that it turned out that she cut the breadths too long, and had to hem a deep hem at the bottom; which wasted some of the cloth, and vexed Ulrica's economical soul. But we have not come to that yet. We must go home with Nelly and Rob. Nelly had made up her mind not to tell her father any thing about Mr. Kleesman's proposal to make the assay until she could see him all alone; but she forgot to tell Rob not to speak of it; and they had hardly taken their seats at the tea-table when Rob exclaimed:-- "Papa! don't you think Mr. Kleesman says a blow-pipe isn't good for any thing to tell about silver with. And there was a man there to-day, with ore out of his mine, and it hadn't any silver at all in it,--not any to speak of,--and he thought it was splendid: he and two other men; they had tried it with a blow-pipe." Mr. Scholfield was taking tea with the Marches this night. He listened with a smile to all Rob said. Then he said:-- "That's just like Kleesman. He thinks nobody but he can tell any thing. It's the money he's after. I see through him. Now I know I can make as good an assay with my blow-pipe as he can with all his little cups and saucers and gimcracks, any day." Nelly grew very red. She did not like to hear Mr. Kleesman so spoken of. She opened her mouth to speak: then bit her lips, and remained quiet. "What is it, Nelly?" said her father. "Nothing, sir," replied Nelly: "only I don't think Mr. Kleesman is like that. He is very kind." "Oh, yes, he's kind enough," said Mr. Scholfield: "he's a good-natured fellow. But it's all moonshine about his being the only one who can make assays. There's a plenty of mines working here to-day that haven't ever had any assay made except by the blow-pipe. There's no use in paying a fellow three or four or five dollars for doing what you can do yourself." "But that man said--" began Rob. "Be quiet now, Rob," said Mr. March. "We won't talk any more about it now." After Mr. Scholfield had gone away, Mr. March called Nelly out of the room. "Come walk up and down in the lane with me, Nell," he said, "and tell me all about what happened at Mr. Kleesman's." Then Nelly told her father all about it, from beginning to end. "Upon my word, Nell," he said, "you seem to have studied the thing carefully. I should think you could almost make an assay yourself."