he
looked so white, and said, 'Yes, Neil; will you give her to me?'

"I told him 'No, sir-ee, I'd give him my ball, and velocipede, and
jackknife, but not baby.'"

This was the day before Miss Betsey came, straight and prim as usual,
but with a different look on her face and tone in her voice from
anything Neil had known, as she asked him how he was feeling, and them,
sitting down beside him, began abruptly:

"I say, Neil, why, don't you rouse yourself? I've been talking to the
doctor, and he says you have no particular disease, except that you seem
discouraged and hopeless, and have made up your mind that you must die."

"Yes, auntie, that is just it; hopeless and discouraged, and want to
die--oh, so badly!" Neil replied, as he leaned back in his chair. "What
use for me to live? Who wants me?"

"_I do!_"

The words rang sharply through the room, and Neil started as if a pistol
had been fired at him.

"You want me? You!" he said, staring blankly at her as she went on
rapidly:

"Yes, I want you, and have come to tell you so. I am an odd old woman,
hard to be moved, but I am not quite calloused yet. I did not like you,
years ago, when those letters passed between us and you would not accept
my offer because you thought it degrading. I am glad now you did not,
for if you had, Bessie would not have been Grey's wife, but yours; and
you are not fit to be her husband, or in fact anybody's. You are only
fit to live with _me_, and see to my business. I am cheated at every
turn, and I need somebody who is honest to look after my rents and
investments. You can do this. It is not hard, and will pay in the end. I
am old and lonesome, and want somebody to speak to besides the
cat--somebody to sit at table and say good-morning to me. In short, I
want you for my son, or grandson, if you like that better. I shall be
queer, and cranky, and hard to get along with at times, but I shall mean
well always. I shall give you a thousand dollars a year to manage my
affairs, and when I die I shall divide with you and Bessie. I have made
a new will to that effect this very morning, so you see I am in earnest.
What do you say?"

He said nothing at first, but cried like a child, while Miss Betsey
cried, too, a little, and blew her nose loudly, and told him not to be a
fool, but to go outdoors on the plateau, where the children were, and
sit there in the shade, and try to get some strength, for she wanted him
very soon.

Then she went aw