eagerness light up the faces of Bob and Eunice, he was encouraged to
make the most of his opportunity. "Why, ma'am," he went on, cheerfully,
"I reckon you're holdin' that wood at a pretty stiff figger, now."

"Why?" asked Mrs. Delatour, simply.

Mr. Bowers delivered a wink at Bob and Eunice, who were still watching
him with anxiety. "Well, not on account of the actool timber, for the
best of it ain't sound," he said, "but on account of its bein' famous!
Everybody that reads that pow'ful pretty poem about it in the 'Excelsior
Magazine' wants to see it. Why, it would pay the Green Springs
hotel-keeper to buy it up for his customers. But I s'pose you reckon to
keep it--along with the poetess--in your famerly?"

Although Mr. Bowers long considered this speech as the happiest and most
brilliant effort of his life, its immediate effect was not, perhaps,
all that could be desired. The widow turned upon him a restrained and
darkening face. Cynthia half rose with an appealing "Oh, mar!" and Bob
and Eunice, having apparently pinched each other to the last stage of
endurance, retired precipitately from the room in a prolonged giggle.

"I have not yet thought of disposing of the Summit woods, Mr. Bowers,"
said Mrs. Delatour, coldly, "but if I should do so, I will consult you.
You must excuse the children, who see so little company, they are quite
unmanageable when strangers are present. Cynthia, WILL you see if the
servants have looked after Mr. Bowers's horse? You know Bob is not to be
trusted."

There was clearly nothing else for Mr. Bowers to do but to take his
leave, which he did respectfully, if not altogether hopefully. But when