se to upset things."

"G-g-glad of it!" returned this ungallant young Marsdenite. "But say,
Un-un-uncle M-Mose."

"Now, Monty, none o' that. I know what's afoot when any you boys begin
to 'uncle' me, an' I say 'No.' I ain't goin' to give up my night's rest
for a fishin'-trip. You hear me?"

"B-b-but, Uncle Mose! I've got the b-ba-bai-bait all dug, and it'll be
p-p-pr-prime for fishin'. Say, Uncle Mose, we haven't had a s-s-s-single
speck o' fresh me-me-meat 't our house for a w-w-w-week!"

"Montgomery Sturtevant! That ought to make you stutter an' choke! Eunice
sent your grandma a pair o' pullets no longer ago 'n yesterday. You--"

But Monty had already departed to summon his chums for an evening's
sport. Well he and they knew that the shortest road to the hired man's
heart was by the suggestion of hunger; and the surest way to secure
parents' consent was the announcement:

"Uncle Moses'll take us fishin', if you'll let us go."

Moses again turned his face chore-ward; yet it was noticeable that he
paused to examine his "tackle" before he fed the poultry, and that he
softly whistled as he went about his work. He was even first at the
rendezvous, on the old "eddy road;" and though others joined him there,
Montgomery--at once his dearest delight and greatest torment--did not
appear.

Alas! at that moment the impecunious heir of all the Sturtevants was
himself in anything but a whistling mood; and was thinking direful
things concerning a girl with whom he had not yet exchanged a word.

"The h-h-h-hateful young one! Un-un-uncle Mose said 'none o' my
wor-r-ry,' an' that's all he k-k-knew! Plague take her! W-w-what she
come to M-M-Ma-Marsden for an' drive me plumb cr-cr-craz-crazy!"

CHAPTER III.

WHY MONTY DID NOT GO A-FISHING

Montgomery's love of gossip was his own undoing. When, after the manner
of Moses, worthy guide, the young angler had put his own fishing-tackle
in order, he sought the dining-room, where supper awaited. For once he
was on time, and received a word of commendation from his grandmother,
which so elated him that he mentally reviewed the day's events for a bit
of news with which to enliven her monotony. Then like a flash arose
before him the picture of an unknown girl at Miss Maitland's window.
This was something worth telling, indeed.

With his mouth full of chicken, remnant of Eunice's pullets, he burst
forth.

"A-a-aunt Eunice's got comp'ny."

The punctilious old lady opposite