"Yes, a baby."

"Squire Sloughman!" said Miss Henrietta, with severe dignity.

"Yes, my dear, Miss Henrietta; I'll tell you all about it. You
remember my niece, who treated me so shamefully by running away and
marrying. Well, poor girl, she died a few days ago, and left her baby
for me, begging I would do for her little girl as kindly as I did by
its mother."

"Shall you keep it?" asked Miss Henrietta.

"I can't tell; that will depend on some one else. I may have to send
it off to the poorhouse!"

"I'll take it myself first," said his listener.

"Not so, my dear, without you take me, too. Hey, what say you, now? I
tell you, I've a notion to be kind and good to this little one; but a
man must have some one to help him do right. Now, it depends on you to
help me be a better or a worse man. I've been thinking of you for a
half-dozen years past, but I thought your whole heart was in little
Etta, and maybe you wouldn't take me, and I did not like to deal with
uncertainties. Now, Etta's provided for with a valentine, I'm here
offering myself and my valentine to you. Say yes or no; I'm in a hurry
now."

"Pity but you had been so years ago," thought Miss Henrietta; but she
said:

"Squire Sloughman, I think it the duty of every Christian to do all
the good she can. So, for that cause, and charity toward the helpless
little infant, I consent to--become----"

"Mrs. Sloughwoman--man, I mean," said the delighted Squire, springing
up and imprinting a kiss on Miss Henrietta's lips.

"Sloughwoman, indeed! I'll not be slow in letting you know I think you
are very hasty in your demonstrations. Wait until I give you leave,"
said the happy spinster.

"I have waited long enough. And now, my dear, do you hurry on to do
your Christian duty; remembering particularly the helpless little
infant needing your care," said the Squire, a little mischievously.

Miss Henrietta never knew whether her mistake had been discovered. She
did not try to find out.

In a short time there was a double wedding in the village. The brides,
Aunt Henrietta and little Etta, equally sharing the admiration of the
guests.

Mrs. Sloughman admitted to herself, after all, it was the valentine
that brought the squire out. And she is often heard to say that she
had fully proved the truth of the old saying, "It's an ill wind that
blows nobody good.

* * * * *

FALSE AND TRUE LOVE.

BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN.