"Well," said Miss Peekin, with a disgusted look, "I s'pose He will, from
the looks o' things; fur Eben sez that when Weasel told the fellers how
it all wuz, they went to work an' put gold dust in a box fur Jim till
ther wus more than he giv fur Brown, an' fellers from all round's been
sendin' him dust ever since. He's mighty sight the richest man anywhere
near this town."

"Good--bless the Lord!" said the deacon, with delight.

"Ye hain't heerd all of it, though," continued Miss Peekin, with a
funereal countenance. "They're going to be married."

"Sakes alive '" gasps Mrs. Crankett.

"It's so," said Miss Peekin; "an' they say she sent for him, by way of
the Isthmus, an' he come back that way. Bad enough to marry him, when
poor Brown hain't been dead six months, but to _send_ for him--"

"Wuz a real noble, big-hearted, womanly thing to do," declared Mrs.
Crankett, snatching off her spectacles; "an' I'd hev done it myself ef
I'd been her."

The deacon gave his old wife an enthusiastic hug; upon seeing which Miss
Peekin hastily departed, with a severely shocked expression of
countenance and a nose aspiring heavenward.