“I’ll give you thirty for them. Just set their baggage outside and tell them the rooms are occupied.” “No sir-ree!” rejoined Uncle Billy. “A bargain’s a bargain, an’ I allus stick to one I make.” Mr. Ellsworth withdrew, but not defeated. He had never supposed that such an absurd proposition would be accepted. It was only a feeler, and he had noticed a wince of regret in his landlord. He sat down on the porch and lit a strong cigar. His wife did not bother him. She gazed complacently at the flaming foliage opposite, and allowed him to think. Getting impossible things was his business in life, and she had confidence in him. “I want to rent your entire house for a week,” he announced to Uncle Billy a few minutes later. It had occurred to him that the flood might last longer than they anticipated. Uncle Billy’s eyes twinkled. “I reckon it kin be did,” he allowed. “I reckon a _ho_-tel man’s got a right to rent his hull house ary minute.” “Of course he has. How much do you want?” Uncle Billy had made one mistake in not asking this sort of folks enough, and he reflected in perplexity. “Make me a offer,” he proposed. “Ef it hain’t enough I’ll tell ye. You want to rent th’ hull place, back lot an’ all?” “No, just the mere house. That will be enough,” answered the other with a smile. He was on the point of offering a hundred dollars, when he saw the little wrinkles about Mr. Tutt’s eyes, and he said seventy-five. “Sho, ye’re jokin’!” retorted Uncle Billy. He had been considered a fine horse-trader in that part of the country. “Make it a hundred and twenty-five, an’ I’ll go ye.” Mr. Ellsworth counted out some bills. “Here’s a hundred,” he said. “That ought to be about right.” “Fifteen more,” insisted Uncle Billy. With a little frown of impatience the other counted off the extra money and handed it over. Uncle Billy gravely handed it back. “Them’s the fifteen dollars Mr. Kamp give me,” he explained. “You’ve got the hull house fer a week, an’ o’ course all th’ money that’s tooken in is your’n. You kin do as ye please about rentin’ out rooms to other folks, I reckon. A bargain’s a bargain, an’ I allus stick to one I make.” V Ralph Ellsworth stalked among the trees, feverishly searching for squirrels, scarlet leaves, and the glint of a brown walking-dress, this last not being so easy to locate in sunlit autumn woods. Time after time he quickened his pace, only to find that he had been fooled by a patch of dogwood, a clump of haw bushes or even a leaf-strewn knoll, but at last he unmistakably saw the dress, and then he slowed down to a careless saunter. She was reaching up for some brilliantly colored maple leaves, and was entirely unconscious of his presence, especially after she had seen him. Her pose showed her pretty figure to advantage, but, of course, she did not know that. How should she?