ve up a good deal."

"You don't realize how much it costs to live in New York, aunt. Of
course, if I lived here, I could live on half the sum, but I have to
pay high prices for everything in New York."

"You don't need to spend such a sight on dress," said Deborah,
disapprovingly.

"I beg your pardon, Aunt Deborah; that's where you are mistaken. The
store-keepers in New York expect you to dress tip-top and look
genteel, so as to do credit to them. If it hadn't been for that, I
shouldn't have spent half so much for dress. Then, board's very
expensive."

"You can get boarded here for two dollars and a half a week," said
Aunt Deborah.

"Two dollars and a half! Why, I never paid less than eight dollars a
week in the city, and you can only get poor board for that."

"The boarding-houses must make a great deal of money," said Deborah.
"If I was younger, I'd maybe go to New York, and keep one myself."

"You're rich, aunt. You don't need to do that."

"Who told you I was rich?" said the old lady, quickly.

"Why, you've only got yourself to take care of, and you own this
farm, don't you?"

"Yes, but farmin' don't pay much."

"I always heard you were pretty comfortable."

"So I am," said the old lady, "and maybe I save something; but my
income aint as great as yours."

"You have only yourself to look after, and it is cheap living in
Centreville."

"I don't fling money away. I don't spend quarter as much as you on
dress."

Looking at the old lady'a faded bombazine dress, Ferdinand was very
ready to believe this.

"You don't have to dress here, I suppose," he answered. "But, aunt,
we won't talk about money matters just yet. It was funny you took me
for a book-pedler."

"It was that book you had, that made me think so."

"It's a book I brought as a present to you, Aunt Deborah."

"You don't say!" said the old lady, gratified. "What is it? Let me
look at it."

"It's a copy of 'Pilgrim's Progress,' illustrated. I knew you
wouldn't like the trashy books they write nowadays, so I brought you
this."

"Really, Ferdinand, you're very considerate," said Aunt Deborah,
turning over the leaves with manifest pleasure. "It's a good book,
and I shall be glad to have it. Where are you stoppin'?"

"At the hotel in the village."

"You must come and stay here. You can get 'em to send round your
things any time."

"Thank you, aunt, I shall be delighted to do so. It seems so
pleasant to see you again a