“Well, aunt, everybody isn’t as sensible and practical as you.  Now I agree with you; I think it’s very foolish.  Still I’m glad I’ve got the ring, because I can turn it into money when I need to.  Only, you see, I don’t like to part with a gift, although I don’t think Mr. Clayton would blame me.”

“Of course he wouldn’t, Ferdinand.  But I don’t see why you should need money when you’re goin’ to get such a handsome salary in San Francisco.”

“To be sure, aunt, but there’s something else.  However, I won’t speak of it to-day.  To-morrow I may want to ask your advice on a matter of business.”

“I’ll advise you the best I can, Ferdinand,” said the flattered spinster.

“You see, aunt, you’re so clear-headed, I shall place great dependence on your advice.  But I think I’ll take a little walk now, just to stretch my limbs.”

“I’ve made good progress,” said the young man to himself, as he lounged over the farm.  “The old lady swallows it all.  To-morrow must come my grand stroke.  I thought I wouldn’t propose it to-day, for fear she’d suspect the ring story.”

CHAPTER XX.

A business transaction.

Ferdinand found life at the farm-house rather slow, nor did he particularly enjoy the society of the spinster whom he called aunt.  But he was playing for a valuable stake, and meant to play out his game.

“Strike while the iron is hot!” said he to himself; “That’s a good rule; but how shall I know when it is hot?  However, I must risk something, and take my chances with the old lady.”

Aunt Deborah herself hastened his action.  Her curiosity had been aroused by Ferdinand’s intimation that he wished her advice on a matter of business, and the next morning, after breakfast, she said, “Ferdinand, what was that you wanted to consult me about?  You may as well tell me now as any time.”

“Here goes, then!” thought the young man.

“I’ll tell you, aunt.  You know I am offered a large salary in San Francisco?”

“Yes, you told me so.”

“And, as you said the other day, I can lay up half my salary, and in time become a rich man.”

“To be sure you can.”

“But there is one difficulty in the way.”

“What is that?”

“I must go out there.”

“Of course you must,” said the old lady, who did not yet see the point.

“And unfortunately it costs considerable money.”

“Haven’t you got enough money to pay your fare out there?”

“No, aunt; it is very expensive living in New York, and I was unable to save anything from my salary.”

“How much does it cost to go out there?”

“About two hundred and fifty dollars.”

“That’s a good deal of money.”

“So it is; but it will be a great deal better to pay it than to lose so good a place.”