Nanny Crocker was sewing at the kitchen table when he returned, and his Aunt Susan brought a belated meal to him hot from the oven. He looked at the food and then spoke. "Can’t eat," he said. "I’ve had a full meal to-day a’ready." "Was you in the storm?" asked Susan. "In the midst of all that awful lightning, with thunder-planets falling and a noise in the elements like the trump of Doom.--If the cat haven’t chatted in the pigs’ house! Her always brings six, so no doubt that’s the number." "I’ve just come from asking Margaret Stanbury to marry me," said Bartley, showing no interest in the kittens. "That’s what I meant when I said I’ve had a full meal." "At last!" cried Nanny Crocker. "Well, well, well--and what a day to choose, my dear! God bless you both, I’m sure. She’s a lucky girl and we must set to work now to teach her more than she’s been able to learn at home. Rise up and kiss me, my son." Bartley obeyed with a sort of sardonic smile under his skin. His mother kissed him fervently and sighed. "You didn’t ask twice, I lay," said Susan. "No," he answered, "I didn’t." "’Tis a terrible pity her mother’s such a chuckle-headed, timid creature," declared Nanny. "Not a word against her after to-day, of course. But I’m sorry she haven’t got larger intellects and don’t believe a little less." "When is it to be, Bartley?" asked his aunt. "You’re not the sort to wait long, I reckon." "It isn’t to be," he answered. "You two silly old souls run on so, and can’t imagine any woman turning up her nose at me. But unfortunately other people haven’t such a good opinion." "Won’t have you!" gasped his parent. "A Stanbury won’t take a Crocker!" "Madge Stanbury won’t take this Crocker--which is all that matters." "The chit!" said Nanny. "The ninnyhammer!" cried Aunt Susan. "The sensible girl," answered Bartley. "She’s found somebody better--a man as stands to work and will make a finer fashion of husband than ever I should." "How you can sit there and talk in that mean spirit passes me!" answered his mother. "Have a greater respect for yourself, and let that girl see to her dying day what a fool she’s been." "Who is it? I suppose you got that much out of her?" asked Bartley’s aunt. "It’s David Bowden from Ditsworthy, and they’ve been tokened two days, so, you see, I was a bit behind the fair." "Nobody would blame her for changing her mind yet now you’ve offered yourself," declared Susan. "She’s no wish to change. She likes me very well as a friend--always have since she used to blow my nose for me in infant school--but she likes him a long sight better--well enough to wed." "She’ll change yet--mark me," foretold his aunt.