“Thomas,” said he, “I have no wish to be hard on thee, or any man in the world. It’s not thee, but thy trade, that don’t please me. If thee was living quietly at home, like thy brothers John and William, I’d be glad to give my daughter to thy father’s son, for he and I have been old friends, and have known each other since we were boys together. However, I’m not prepared to say that thee shall not marry Patty, so I’ll make a proposition to thee. If thee’ll show me seven hundred and fifty dollars of thy own earning at the end of a year’s time, I am willing that thee shall have her. Is that fair?” “Yes; I suppose it is,” said Tom. “Very well. Show me seven hundred and fifty dollars at the end of a year’s time from to-day, and I’ll give thee leave to marry Patty. Farewell.” “May I see Patty now?” “I reckon so. There’s no reason that thee shouldn’t see her that I know of.” Then Tom left the room. He found Patty sitting on the porch when he went out. He was feeling very bitter, for his talk with Elihu had not been of the pleasantest kind. It seemed to have taken much of the joy out of his new happiness, for the grudging words of Elihu’s consent had stung his pride very sharply. Therefore there was a smack of bitterness in his joy that spoilt the savor of the whole. He sat down by Patty without a word, and began rubbing his palm slowly over the end of the arm of the chair on which he was sitting, looking down at it moodily the while. It was both weak and selfish in him to give way to such feelings at such a time, but love is a subtle joy that only one false chord will jar the whole out of tune, and, for the time, there will be discord in the heart. Patty sat looking at him, as though waiting for him to speak. “Thy father don’t seem much pleased with this, Patty,” said he, at last. “Never mind, Tom,” said Patty, and her little hand slid over and rested softly upon his own; “he’ll like it when he is more used to the thought of it. Father’s queer, and sometimes harsh in his ways, but his heart is all right. No one could be more kind and loving than he is to me. When he finds how dear thee is to me, he’ll like thee for my sake, if for nothing else. After a while he will be as proud of thee as though thee were his own son.” “I hope that he will like me better, as time goes on,” said Tom, but the tone of his voice said, “I don’t believe he will.” “Yes; his liking will come all in good time, Tom;” then, very softly, “Isn’t thee happy, Tom?” “Yes; I’m happy,” said Tom, but in truth, his words belied his thoughts a little, and his voice, I think, must have somewhat belied his words. “Tom,” said Patty, and he looked up. She looked bravely and lovingly into his eyes; “I am very happy,” said she, in a low voice. “God bless thee, Patty!” said Tom, in a voice that trembled a little; “thee’s a good girl,—too good a girl for me. I’m afraid I’m not worthy of thee.” “I’m satisfied,” said Patty, quietly. “Tell me; what did father say to thee, Thomas?”