"I dunno about that," objected Mrs. Doggett: "I'd thenk, though, Miss Lucy'd look higher'n Mr. Lindsay,--him sorter delicate, and not well off, and jest workin' around." "There's others that she could git I reckon," said Mr. Brock with a meaning look. Into Mrs. Doggett's quick brain sprang the pleasing thought that Mr. Brock was ready to marry again and himself wanted Miss Lucy,--a lady whose father owned one hundred acres of land, and whom even the Castles respected and occasionally visited. If Mr. Brock were to marry Miss Lucy, Lily Pearl's fortune would be made! Mrs. Doggett's head swam with delight. She returned Mr. Brock's look with a smile of encouragement. "You're right, Mr. Brock," she declared with emphasis: "Miss Nancy is of a quair distant turn--one o' them kind that smiles about as often as a cow--and ef she's ever had a beau, hit hain't never been found out on her; but Miss Lucy, ef she _is_ older'n Miss Nancy, she's a heap sightlier and agreeabler, and I know thar's men better off than Mr. Lindsay that'd do _well_ to git her!" In the expression of her pleasure, she solicitously pressed the viands on Mr. Brock. "Do eat somethin' more, Mr. Brock; you shorely can live fer one meal on what I have to live on all the time, ef you'll jest eat enough o' hit! Have another aig." "Eggs are high," remarked Mr. Brock as he lifted two poached eggs to his plate. "Now, Mr. Brock, I don't disfurnish my fambly, let alone my comp'ny, to sell a few aigs! Let me porch you another un: I'm afeerd them's too hard b'iled fer you!" After supper, when the men gathered around the big wood fire in the living-room Mr. Brock went back to the kitchen, ostensibly seeking a match, really for a private word with Mrs. Doggett. "Lily Pearl ought to be a goin' to school before long," he suggested, as he lighted his pipe: "and ef Reub and me had any housekeeper besides that old darky, Jane Smick, she could stay at my house and go, as it's closer to the school-house, and I'd put up the money for the teacher when the pay school went on." "Lord, I wisht she could!" cried Mrs. Doggett. Mr. Brock reached up for his overcoat and his hat. "You hain't a goin', Mr. Brock? Lemme fix the lantern fer you, then; hit's as dark as a dungeon out, and the moon won't be up fer an hour yit!" Mr. Brock watched her fill the lantern contemplatively. "Mrs. Doggett," he brought himself to say, presently, "certain persons talk against widowers marryin' again. You haven't got that kind of a feelin' have you?" Mrs. Doggett held up the glass globe, clear and clean. "I'm one as'd never say a word ef a man'd jest marry the right kind o' woman," she purred. "A widower I know has got his eye on a good woman, and he can git her he thinks, if somebody else don't git too much encouragement from the neighbors." "That somebody'll git none from a neighbor that _I_ can answer fer," Mrs. Doggett assured him with a wink.