y one in your eye now?" he irrelevantly inquired. And,
considering he stood where he filled my entire vision, as he rose
between me and the light shed by the last division of the western
passenger mail as it self-importantly crossed the viaduct, I
answered--

"Yes; I think I know a man who would just fill the bill."

He did not ask for further particulars, but remarked warningly--

"Decent fellows with cash are scarce. They are inclined to get into
mischief if they have too much time and money on their hands."

"That's it; and I would not like to make a mess of things now that
I've taken up matchmaking. You'll have to advise me when matters get
out of hand; a little practice may come in handy some day when you
have half a dozen daughters."

"It would come in still handier now."

"Pshaw, now! You'd only have to ask to receive, at your time of life
and with your qualifications."

"I'm not so sure. You're the only one who has such an opinion of me,"
he said disconsolately. "Others look upon me as a red-headed fool with
big ears, &c.;" and thus I knew Dawn's idle words had returned to his
ears, as these things invariably do, and had stung.

"Silly-billy! I'll take you in hand when I've settled Dawn. I'm the
one to advertise your wares, for could I turn back the wheel of time
eight or nine years and make us of an age, I'd make it leap-year and
propose to you myself."

"I'd like to propose to you without altering the time," he gallantly
responded, apparently not in such deadly fear of a breach of promise
action as was Uncle Jake.

"If I don't move in the matter Dawn will be marrying that Eweword, and
though he's a most handsome and worthy--"

"Soft as a turnip," contemptuously interposed Ernest; "eats too much.
It would take twelve months hard training to make any sort of a man of
him."

"It would be a pity to see Dawn just settling down into the dull,
drudging life of a farmer's wife, going to an occasional show or
tea-meeting in a home-made dress, with two or three children dragging
at her skirts and looking a perfect wreck, as most of the mothers do."

"By Jove, yes!"

"She has a right to be on the lawn on Cup Day or in the front circle
on first nights. She'd surprise some of the grandees, and with her
vivacity and courage she'd make a furore for a time."

"She'd make a good sport if she were a man," assented Ernest. "No
running stiff or jamming a jock on the post or anything like that from
her--she'd a