talkin' 'bout Sim Marchman to Marann, an' makin' game o'
his country ways, as he call 'em. Sech as that ain't right."

It may be as well to explain just here that Simeon Marchman, the
person just named by Mrs. Fluker, a stout, industrious young farmer,
residing with his parents in the country near by where the Flukers had
dwelt before removing to town, had been eying Marann for a year or
two, and waiting upon her fast-ripening womanhood with intentions
that, he believed to be hidden in his own breast, though he had taken
less pains to conceal them from Marann than from the rest of his
acquaintance. Not that he had ever told her of them in so many words,
but--Oh, I need not stop here in the midst of this narration to
explain how such intentions become known, or at least strongly
suspected by girls, even those less bright than Marann Fluker. Simeon
had not cordially indorsed the movement into town, though, of course,
knowing it was none of his business, he had never so much as hinted
opposition. I would not be surprised, also, if he reflected that there
might be some selfishness in his hostility, or at least that it was
heightened by apprehensions personal to himself.

Considering the want of experience in the new tenants, matters went on
remarkably well. Mrs. Fluker, accustomed to rise from her couch long
before the lark, managed to the satisfaction of all,--regular
boarders, single-meal takers, and transient people. Marann went to the
village school, her mother dressing her, though with prudent economy,
as neatly and almost as tastefully as any of her schoolmates; while,
as to study, deportment, and general progress, there was not a girl in
the whole school to beat her, I don't care who she was.

II

During a not inconsiderable period Mr. Fluker indulged the honorable
conviction that at last he had found the vein in which his best
talents lay, and he was happy in foresight of the prosperity and
felicity which that discovery promised to himself and his family. His
native activity found many more objects for its exertion than before.
He rode out to the farm, not often, but sometimes, as a matter of
duty, and was forced to acknowledge that Sam was managing better than
could have been expected in the absence of his own continuous
guidance. In town he walked about the hotel, entertained the guests,
carved at the meals, hovered about the stores, the doctors' offices,
the wagon and blacksmith shops, discussed mercan