't got fire enough. And we'd better settle this
matter while we're at it."

"Settle it! Why, Marthy, you talk 's if you wanted me to go 'n' git
married on the spot and bring my second wife home to you before--while
you're still here. I'm no Mormon. Like's not you've got her selected;
you're such a wonderful hand to settle things."

"I can't say 's I've got her selected--not the exact one--but I've ben
runnin' over several in my mind. We'd better have several to pick from,
and then if some refused you, we'd still have a chance."

"But how would you git any of 'em to consent?" asked Andrew with a show
of interest.

"How else but ask 'em? They would understand how I feel about you. The
hull town knows how I've laid here expectin' every day to be to-morrow,
and if I want that thing settled before I go, I don't see how it could
make talk."

"Now, who had you sorted out to pick from?" and Andrew leaned back
comfortably in his chair. His wife punched up her pillow to lift her
head higher.

"Well, there's the widows first. I've sorted them over and over till
I've got 'em down to four that ain't wasteful cooks nor got too many
relations. There's Widow Jackson--"

"She's weakly," promptly decided Andrew.

"And Mary Josephine Wilson--"

"She don't go to our church. What about the old maids?"

"I don't take much stock in old maids. The likeliest person I know, and
I wouldn't call her an old maid, either, is Abilonia Supe. Her mother
was counted the best breadmaker in North Sudbury, and Abby was the
neatest darner in her class at sewing school."

"But, why, Marthy, isn't Abby promised to Willy Parks?"

"No; I asked Mis' Parks about that yisterday. She said Willy had been
waitin' on Abby for four or five years, but they'd had a
misunderstandin' this summer, and it was broke off for good."

"He ought to be horsewhipped!" said Andrew warmly. "Abilonia Supe is the
finest girl in North Sudbury."

"Ye-es," admitted Marthy reluctantly. "You're sure she wouldn't be too
young for you, are you?"

"Too young? For me? I don't want to marry my grandmother, I guess. And
I'm not Methusalem myself," and he shook the stoop out of his back and
spread the thin hair across his bald spot. His wife looked at him in
wondering surprise.

"Abby has had rather a hard time since her mother died," she said
weakly.

"Indeed she has, and she deserves to have it easy now. She needs
somebody to take care of her if that scamp--and she isn't b