“Have you got it with you?”

“No, aunt; I may have it at the hotel,” said the young man, hesitating, “but I am not certain.”

“Well, it’s a good offer.  There isn’t nobody in Centreville gets so large a salary.”

“No, I suppose not.  They don’t need it, as it is cheap living here.”

“I hope when you get out there, Ferdinand, you’ll save up money.  You’d ought to save two-thirds of your pay.”

“I will try to, aunt.”

“You’ll be wantin’ to get married bimeby, and then it’ll be convenient to have some money to begin with.”

“To be sure, aunt.  I see you know how to manage.”

“I was always considered a good manager,” said Deborah, complacently.  “Ef your poor father had had my faculty, he wouldn’t have died as poor as he did, I can tell you.”

“What a conceited old woman she is, with her faculty!” thought Ferdinand, but what he said was quite different.

“I wish he had had, aunt.  It would have been better for me.”

“Well, you ought to get along, with your prospects.”

“Little the old woman knows what my real prospects are!” thought the young man.

“Of course I ought,” he said.

“Excuse me a few minutes, nephew,” said Aunt Deborah, gathering up her knitting and rising from her chair.  “I must go out and see about tea.  Maybe you’d like to read that nice book you brought.”

“No, I thank you, aunt.  I think I’ll take a little walk round your place, if you’ll allow me.”

“Sartin, Ferdinand.  Only come back in half an hour; tea’ll be ready then.”

“Yea, aunt, I’ll remember.”

So while Deborah was in the kitchen, Ferdinand took a walk in the fields, laughing to himself from time to time, as if something amused him.

He returned in due time, and sat down to supper Aunt Deborah had provided her best, and, though the dishes were plain, they were quite palatable.

When supper was over, the young man said,—­

“Now, aunt, I think I will be getting back to the hotel.”

“You’ll come over in the morning, Ferdinand, and fetch your trunk?”

“Yes, aunt.  Good-night.”

“Good-night.”

“Well,” thought the young man, as he tramped back to the hotel.  “I’ve opened the campaign, and made, I believe, a favorable impression.  But what a pack of lies I have had to tell, to be sure!  The old lady came near catching me once or twice, particularly about the color of my hair.  It was a lucky thought, that about the French barber.  It deceived the poor old soul.  I don’t think she could ever have been very handsome.  If she was she must have changed fearfully.”

In the evening, John Clapp and Luke Harrison came round to the hotel to see him.

“Have you been to see your aunt?” asked Clapp.

“Yes, I took tea there.”

“Have a good time?”