mean to mad you," Tim grunted, with a quiver in his rough voice.
"I've been listening to every word you said, and I thought you
were so sensible you'd talk over things without nonsense.
Of course I knew he'd have to come and see you Saturday nights,
and take you buggy riding, and take you to the theatre,
and all such things--first. But I thought we could sorter
fix it up between ourselves. I've taken care of him ever
since Aunt Lizzie died, and I did my best he shouldn't lend
that money, but I couldn't help it; and I did keep him from
marrying a widow woman with eight children, who kept telling
him how much her poor fatherless children needed a man;
and I never did see anybody I was willing--before--and it's--
it's so lonesome without Aunt Lizzie!" He choked and frowned.
Poor Tim, who had sold so many melons to women and seen
so much of back doors and kitchen humors that he held
the sex very cheap, he did not realize how hard he would
find it to talk of the one woman who had been kind to him!
He turned red with shame over his own weakness.

"You poor little chap!" cried Miss Brown; "you poor
little sharp, innocent chap!" The hand she laid on his
shoulder patted it as she went on: "Never mind, if I
can't marry your uncle, I can help you take care of him.
You're a real nice boy, and I'm not mad; don't you think it.
There's your uncle now."

Nelson found her so gentle that he began to have qualms lest
his carefully prepared speech should hurt her feelings.
But there was no help for it now. "I have thought over
your kind offer to me, ma'am," said he, humbly, "and I got