I was completely satisfied and engaged him on the spot, sending him to milk at once. He had scarcely departed when the door into the dining-room opened and Marion appeared. I saw from her face that she had been listening to the conversation, and that indignation and amusement struggled for mastery. "You wr-r-etch!" she ejaculated. I said nothing. I was master of the situation, and I knew it was one of the times when she could imagine more provoking insinuations than I could put into words. "What are you laughing at?" she cried indignantly. "I was just thinking--" I began, then I paused dramatically. "Thinking what?" she demanded. "That William Wedder is either a married man or a widower." I had intended her to ask me why, and I had the answer ready, but it was the wrong question she propounded. "A married man _or_ a widower?" she repeated slowly; then her face became suddenly illumined with appreciative mirth. "Oh, I see! Because it was so hard to get at the _exact_ truth?" "Ye--es," I faltered. VIII MARION RISES TO THE OCCASION William Wedder, as one-fourth of a hired man, was a distinct success. Not only did he do the ordinary chores that had previously fallen to my lot, but he lightened Marion's household labors by his readiness to churn, wash floors and windows, and to do any other extra work that might have turned her attention from culinary duties. In fact, it soon became apparent that the mainspring of William's energy needed to be kept in working order by a diet that included a liberal supply of raspberry pie or its equivalent, for if the quality or quantity of the dessert were not to his liking his movements became languid and his cheerfulness fled. His own theory, he told me in confidence, was that the dessert compartment of his stomach was so arranged that no amount of plain food would fill it,--he was quite sure that was the case, for the only effect of trying to fill up by substituting plain food for puddings and pies was to make him feel lop-sided. But if he was costly to feed he paid for his board by the bountiful supply of vegetables he raised, for our little garden flourished amazingly under his care. And if we fancied chickens for dinner, it was no longer necessary for me to steal out with the axe at night after Paul was asleep and rouse a horrid clamor among the innocent victims that I tremblingly clutched by the legs. How William did it we never inquired. Indeed, we preferred to think that he didn't, but if he did, it was done in silence and with decorum, and the chickens which I had taken the precaution not to allow Paul to include in his flock appeared on our kitchen table looking quite as if they had just been bought at the market.