"Oh, you needn't take the trouble to speak a good word for me. Any man
who could ever write a letter like this doesn't need to be coaxed. Just
listen:


"The man you take for a mate is the luckiest dog in the whole round
world. I'd rather be him than king of all the countries on earth. I'd
rather be him than strike a gold-mine reaching from here to China. I'd
rather be him than master of the finest vessel that ever sailed blue
water. That's what I would. Why, the man who couldn't be happy with you
would spill tears all over heaven."


Blossy's cheek was still flushed, but no longer with pique. Her voice
quavered, and broke; and finally there fell upon the faded page of the
letter two sparkling tears.

Abraham shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other; then,
muttering something about the "pesky apple-hook," went scuffing across
the floor in the direction of the chimney.

Blossy, however, called him back. "I was crying, Brother Abe, because
the man I did take for a mate once was not happy, and--and neither was
I. I was utterly wretched; so that I've always felt I never cared to
marry again. And--and Samuel's wig is always slipping down over one eye,
and I simply cannot endure that trick he has of carrying his head to one
side, as if he had a left-handed spell of the mumps. It nearly drives me
frantic.

"Brother Abe, now tell me honestly: do you think he would make a good