idow," thought
Nat. "Wonder what put it into his head? And what put it into his head to
come to New York to look for me? I'd rather he would keep his distance."

Nat did not know that for the past few months the Widow Guff had had a
hard time of it with a number of her boarders, and could scarcely make
both ends meet, yet such was a fact.

One day the widow called on a friend, and from this friend learned that
Abner Balberry had discharged his housekeeper, and was keeping house by
himself.

"It's a shame for him to be all alone," thought the widow. "And with
that nephew of his away, too! Some good woman ought to be keeping house
for him."

The widow had long had her eye on Abner Balberry, whom she knew fairly
well. She knew Abner was well-to-do, and keeping a boarding house seemed
of a sudden a great burden to her.

"Wish I could make Abner propose," she said to herself. "He just ought
to have a wife."

So the widow kept on thinking, and by and by her face brightened. She
had an idea, which she resolved to put into execution the very first
opportunity.

"Fred," said she to her son, a tall gawk of a boy, "I want you to go to
Mr. Abner Balberry's house, and ask him if he will stop in and see me
the first time he comes to town."

"Wot do yer want, ma?" drawled Fred.

"Never mind, Fred. Just ask him to call. Say I'd like a little advice
from him."

Fred shuffled off on his errand, and found Nat's uncle down in the
henhouse, searching for eggs.

"Ma wants you to come and see her," said the youth.

"Wants me to come an' see her?" queried Nat's uncle.

"Yep."

"What for?"

"Dunno. Said she'd like some advice."

"All right; I'll come," said Abner.

That afternoon, after milking, he arrayed himself in his best, and drove
over to the widow's boarding house. He was glad to make the visit, for
since discharging his housekeeper he had found life on the farm rather
lonely.

The widow greeted him warmly, and asked him into her parlor, closing the
doors, so that nobody might interrupt them. She seemed somewhat
embarrassed.

"Fred told me that you would like to see me," commenced Nat's uncle.

"Yes, Abner, I do; but I'm afraid you'll think it strange of me--at
least of what I have to say to you."

"Oh, that's all right, Lucy; you know you kin trust me," he replied.

"Suppose,"--the widow cast down her eyes,--"mind, I am only supposing a
case--suppose a person should find a pot full of gold pieces in an old