r?"

"Yep, but I ain't got no more. I'm on the last hunk."

Mr. Ball stroked his stained beard. "I useter," he said, reminiscently,
"afore I was merried."

Joe whistled idly, still watching for Hepsey.

"Young feller," said Mr. Ball, again, "there's a great deal of merryin'
and givin' in merriage in this here settlement, ain't there?"

"Not so much as there might be."

"Say, was your mother's name Elmiry Peavey?"

"Yes sir," Joe answered, much surprised.

"Then you be keerful," cautioned Mr. Ball. "Your hoss has got the
evil eye and your father, as might hev been, allers had a weak eye fer
women." Joe's face was a picture of blank astonishment. "I was engaged
to both of 'em," Mr. Ball explained, "each one a-keepin' of it
secret, and she--" here he pointed his thumb suggestively toward the
house--"she's got me."

"I'm going to be married myself," volunteered Joe, proudly.

"Merriage is a fleetin' show--I wouldn't, if I was in your place.
Merriage is a drag on a man's ambitions. I set out to own a schooner,
but I can't never do it now, on account of bein' merried. I had a good
start towards it--I had a little store all to myself, what was worth
three or four hundred dollars, in a sunny country where the women folks
had soft voices and pretty ankles and wasn't above passin' jokes with an
old feller to cheer 'im on 'is lonely way."

Mrs. Ball appeared at the upper window. "James," she called, "you'd
better come in and get your hat. Your bald spot will get all sunburned."

"I guess I won't wait no longer, Miss Hathaway," Joe shouted, and,
suiting the action to the word, turned around and started down hill. Mr.
Ball, half way up the gravelled walk, turned back to smile at Joe with
feeble jocularity.

Hearing the familiar voice, Hepsey hastened to the front of the house,
and was about to retreat, when Mr. Ball stopped her.

"Pore little darlin'," he said, kindly, noting her tear stained face.
"Don't go--wait a minute." He fumbled at his belt and at last extracted
a crisp, new ten dollar bill. "Here, take that and buy you a ribbon or
sunthin' to remember your lovin' Uncle James by."

Hepsey's face brightened, and she hastily concealed the bill in her
dress. "I ain't your niece," she said, hesitatingly, "it's Miss Thorne."

"That don't make no difference," rejoined Mr. Ball, generously, "I'm
willin' you should be my niece too. All pretty young things is my
nieces and I loves 'em all. Won't you give your pore o