“Doctor,” he said at last, with an awkward attempt at a gay, confidential manner, “you know what I come for today. Perhaps I'm rather an old boy to be here on such an errand; I've been a bit afraid lest you might think me so; and for that reason I haven't spoken to Martha at all, (though I think she's smart enough to guess how my mind turns,) and won't speak, till I first have your leave. I'm not so young as to be light-headed in such matters; and, most likely, I'm not everything that Martha would like; but--but--there's other things to be considered--not that I mind 'em much, only the old man, you know, is very particular about 'em, and so I've come up to see if we can't agree without much trouble.” Dr. Deane took a small pinch of Rappee, and then touched his nose lightly with his lavendered handkerchief. He drew up his hanging under-lip until it nearly covered the upper, and lifted his nostrils with an air at once of reticence and wisdom. “I don't deny,” he said slowly, “that I've suspected something of what is in thy mind, and I will further say that thee's done right in coming first to me. Martha being an only d--child, I have her welfare much at heart, and if I had known anything seriously to thy discredit, I would not have permitted thy attentions. So far as that goes, thee may feel easy. I _did_ hope, however, that thee would have some assurance of what thy father intends to do for thee--and perhaps thee has,--Elisha being established in his own independence, and Ann not requiring a great deal, thee would inherit considerable, besides the farm. And it seems to me that I might justly, in Martha's interest, ask for some such assurance.” If Alfred Barton's secret thought had been expressed in words, it would have been: “Curse the old fool--he knows what the old man is, as well as I do!” But he twisted a respectful hypocrisy out of his whisker, and said,-- “Ye-e-es, that seems only fair. How am _I_ to get at it, though? I daren't touch the subject with a ten-foot pole, and yet it stands both to law and reason that I should come in for a handsome slice o' the property. You might take it for granted, Doctor?” “So I might, if _thy_ father would take for granted what _I_ might be able to do. I can see, however, that it's hardly thy place to ask him; that might be left to me.” This was an idea which had not occurred to Alfred Barton. A thrill of greedy curiosity shot through his heart; he saw that, with Dr. Deane's help, he might be able to ascertain the amount of the inheritance which must so soon fall to him. This feeling, fed by the impatience of his long subjection, took complete possession of him, and he resolved to further his father's desires, without regard to present results.