y-two--but it seems to me that one of the
Spicers--I think it was Captain Abner Spicer--had children until he was
sixty--although by a younger wife, of course."

They looked it up and in so doing they came across an Ezra Babcock,
father-in-law of the Third Josiah Spencer, who had had a son proudly born
to him in his sixty-fourth year.

They gazed at each other then, those two maiden sisters, like two
conspirators in their precious innocence.

"If we could find Josiah a young wife--" said the elder at last.

"Oh, Cordelia!" breathed Patty, "if, indeed, we only could!"

Which was really how it started.

As I think you will realize, it would be a story in itself to describe
the progress of that gentle intrigue--the consultations, the gradual
eliminations, the search, the abandonment of the search--(which came
immediately after learning of two elderly gentlemen with young wives--but
no children!)--the almost immediate resumption of the quest because of
Josiah's failing health--and finally then the reward of patience,
the pious nudge one Sunday morning in church, the whispered "Look,
Cordelia, that strange girl with the Pearsons--no, the one with the red
cheeks--yes, that one!"--the exchange of significant glances, the
introduction, the invitation and last, but least, the verification of the
fruitfulness of the vine.

The girl's name was Martha Berger and her home was in California. She had
come east to attend the wedding of her brother and was now staying with
the Pearsons a few weeks before returning west. Her age was twenty-six.
She had no parents, very little money, and taught French, English and
Science in the high school back home.

"Have you any brothers or sisters!" asked Miss Cordelia, with a side
glance toward Miss Patty.

"Only five brothers and five sisters," laughed Martha.

For a moment it might be said that Miss Cordelia purred.

"Any of them married?" she continued.

"All but me."

"My dear! ... You don't mean to say that they have made you an aunt
already?"

Martha paused with that inward look which generally accompanies mental
arithmetic.

"Only about seventeen times," she finally laughed again.

When their guest had gone, the two sisters fairly danced around each
other.

"Oh, Patty!" exulted Miss Cordelia, "I'm sure she's a fruitful vine!"

CHAPTER II

There is something inexorable in the purpose of a maiden lady--perhaps
because she has no minor domestic troubles to distra