"Look here, Mr. Bott, that ain't none of your business yet, anyhow. She don't pay no board while she stays here; but that ain't nobody's business." "Oh, no offence, sir, none in the world. Only I am a business man, and don't want misunderstandings. So she don't. And I suppose you don't want to part with your last child--now, do you? It's like breaking your heart-strings, now, ain't it?" he said, in his most sentimental lecture voice. "Well, no, I can't say it is. Mattie's welcome in my house while I live, but of course she'll leave me some day, and I'll wish her joy." "Why should that be? My dear sir, why should that be?" Bott's voice grew greasy with sweetness and persuasion. "Why not all live together? I will be to you as a son. Maud will soothe your declining years. Let it be as it is, Father Saul." The old carpenter looked up with a keen twinkle of his eye. "You and your wife would like to board with us when you are married? Well, mebbe we can arrange that." This was not quite what Bott expected, but he thought best to say no more on that subject for the moment. Saul then asked the question that had all along been hovering on his lips. "Have you spoke to Mattie yet?" The seer blushed and simpered, "I thought it my duty to speak first to you; but I do not doubt her heart." "Oh! you don't," said Saul, with a world of meaning. "You better find out. You'll find her in the house." Bott went to the house, leaving Saul pondering. Girls were queer cattle. Had Mattie given her word to this slab-sided, lanky fellow? Had she given Sam Sleeny the mitten for him? Perhaps she wanted the glory of being Mrs. Professor Bott. Well, she could do as she liked; but Saul swore softly to himself, "If Bott comes to live offen me, he's got to pay his board."