“Mother was thirty-two, and father was thirty-nine. He is most forty-one now. Is the deacon older than that?” “Going on fifty-one. Sh-sh—” Amy replied, her “sh-sh’s” being more decided as baby showed signs of waking. Johnnie had learned what he wished to know, and bidding Mrs. Bowles good morning, he ran home, repeating to himself: “Turned thirty,—going on fifty-one. Ought from one is one, three from five is two. That makes twenty-one. Most twenty,—most forty-one. Ought from one is one, two from four is two. _That_ makes twenty-one. Jemima! It’ll do, it’ll do!” and Johnnie ran on with all his might till he reached home, where he found Jessie, whom he astonished with a hug which almost strangled her. “It will do! it will do!” he exclaimed, as he kissed her, and when she asked what would do, he answered, “I know, I know, but I shan’t tell!” and he darted off, big with the important thing which he knew and should not tell. That night, as Squire Russell sat in his library, Johnnie came in and startled him with the question: “Father, who will take care of us when Aunt Dora is gone? Her new house will be done in September.” “I don’t know, my son;” and the Squire laid down his paper, for the question which Johnnie asked had also been troubling him. There was silence a moment, during which Johnnie almost twisted a button from his jacket, and then he broke out abruptly: “Why don’t you get married?” “Married! To whom?” the Squire exclaimed; and Johnnie replied: “You know. The nicest girl in all creation after Aunt Dora. She isn’t too young, neither. Amy Bowles is twenty-one years younger than the deacon, and Jessie ain’t any more.” “Jessie! Jessie Verner!” the squire gasped, and Johnnie continued: “Yes, Jessie Verner; I most know she’ll have you. Any way, I’ll make her. You break the ice, and I’ll pitch in! Will you, father? Will you have Jessie?” “It would be better to ask first if she’ll have me,” the father replied, rubbing his head, which seemed a little numb with the sudden shock. “I hear her. I’ll send her in! You ask her, father!” Johnnie exclaimed, darting to the door, as he heard Jessie in the upper hall whistling “three hundred thousand more.” As he reached the threshold he paused, while he added: “I guess Jessie will stand a huggin’ better than Aunt Dora, so you might come that game on her!” and Johnnie rushed after Jessie ere his father had time to recover his breath. Jessie could not at once be found, and as Johnnie would not tell her what his father wanted of her, she was in no particular hurry to answer the summons, so that Squire Russell had time to collect his thoughts, and to discover that little Jessie Verner was very dear to him, and that though he had never entertained an idea of making her his wife till Johnnie suggested it, the idea was by no means distasteful, and if she were willing, why of course he was. But would she come? Yes, she was coming, for he heard her in the hall calling back to Johnnie: