“The niece was a nice, quiet girl. The only thing Nate had against her, outside of the sociology craziness and her not seemin' to take a shine to him, was her confounded pets. Nate said he never had no use for pets--lazy critters, eatin' up the victuals and costin' money--but Olivia was dead gone on 'em. She adopted an old reprobate of a tom-cat, which she labeled 'Galileo,' after an Eyetalian who invented spyglasses or somethin' similar, and a great big ugly dog that answered to the hail of 'Phillips Brooks'; she named him that because she said the original Phillips was a distinguished parson and a great philanthropist. “That dog was a healthy philanthropist. When Nate kicked him the first time, he chased him the whole length of the barn. After that they had to keep him chained up. He was just pinin' for a chance to swaller Scudder whole, and he showed it. “Well, as time went on, Olivia and Augustus got chummier and chummier. Nate give 'em all the chance possible to be together, and as for old Professor Whiskers, all he thought of, anyway, was his blessed flyin' machine. So things was shapin' themselves well, 'cordin' to Scudder's notion. “One afternoon Nate come, unexpected, to the top of a sand hill at t'other end of the island, and there, below, set Olivia and Augustus. He had a clove hitch 'round her waist, and they was lookin' into each other's spectacles as if they was windows in the pearly gates. Thinks Nate: 'They've signed articles,' and he tiptoed away, feelin' that life wa'n't altogether an empty dream. “They was lively hours, them that followed. To begin with, when Nate got back to the barn he found the professor layin' on the floor, under the flyin' stage, groanin' soulful but dismal. He'd slipped off one of the braces of the trestles and sprained both wrists and bruised himself till he wa'n't much more than one big lump. He hadn't bruised his tongue none to speak of, though, and his language wa'n't sprained so that you'd notice it. What broke him up most of all was that he'd got his aeroplane ready to 'fly' again, and now he was knocked out so's he couldn't be aboard when she went off the ways. “'It is the irony of fate,' says he. “'I got it off the blacksmith over to Wellmouth Centre,' Nate told him; 'but HE might have got it from Fate, or whoever you mean. 'Twas slippery iron, I know that, and I warned you against steppin' on it yesterday.' “The professor more'n hinted that Nate was a dunderhead idiot, and then he commenced to holler for Tolliver; he wanted to see Tolliver right off. Scudder thought he'd ought to see a doctor, but he wouldn't, so Nate plastered him up best he could, got him into the big chair in the front room, and went huntin' Augustus. Him and Olivia was still camped in the sand bank. Gus's right arm had got tired by this time, I cal'late, but he had a new hitch with his left. Likewise they was still starin' into each other's specs.