gettin' on in the vale, ez is natural--though you still kind o' run to
bone, as you used."

There was not a trace of malevolence in either of their comments, only
a resigned recognition of certain unpleasant truths which seemed to have
been habitual to both of them. Mr. Langworthy paused to flick away some
flies from the butter with his professional napkin, and resumed,--

"It must be a matter o' five years sens I last saw ye, isn't it?--in
court arter you got the decree--you remember?"

"Yes--the 28th o' July, '51. I paid Lawyer Hoskins's bill that very
day--that's how I remember," returned the lady. "You've got a big
business here," she continued, glancing round the room; "I reckon you're
makin' it pay. Don't seem to be in your line, though; but then, thar
wasn't many things that was."

"No--that's so," responded Mr. Langworthy, nodding his head, as
assenting to an undeniable proposition, "and you--I suppose you're
gettin' on too. I reckon you're--er--married--eh?"--with a slight
suggestion of putting the question delicately.

The lady nodded, ignoring the hesitation. "Yes, let me see, it's just
three years and three days. Constantine Byers--I don't reckon you know
him--from Milwaukee. Timber merchant. Standin' timber's his specialty."

"And I reckon he's--satisfactory?"

"Yes! Mr. Byers is a good provider--and handy. And you? I should say
you'd want a wife in this business?"