Mrs. Snow was the first to become grave. "Cap'n Hedge," she said,
"there's one or two things I must say right here. In the first place, I
ain't in the habit of answerin' advertisements from folks that wants
to git married; I ain't so hard up for a man as all that comes to.
Next thing, I didn't come down here with my mind made up to marry Cap'n
Burgess, not by no means. I wanted to see him and talk with him, and
tell him jest all about how things was with me and find out about him
and then--why, if everything was shipshape, I might, p'raps, think
about--"

"Jest so, ma'am, jest so," broke in her companion. "That's about the
way we felt. You see, there's prob'ly a long story on both sides, and if
you'll excuse me I'll go down to the shanty and see if I can't git Jerry
up here. It'll be a job, I'm 'fraid, but--"

"No, you shan't either. I'll tell you what we'll do. It's awful late
now and I must be gittin' up to the tavern. S'pose, if 'tain't too much
trouble, you walk up there with me and I'll stay there to-night and
to-morrer I'll come down here, and we'll all have a common-sense talk.
P'raps by that time your friend 'll have the darky woman some off his
mind, too."

Needless to say Captain Eri agreed to this plan with alacrity. The
widow carefully tied on a black, old-fashioned bonnet, picked up a fat,
wooden-handled umbrella and the extension case, and said that she was
ready.

They walked up the road together, the Captain carrying the extension
case. They talked, but not of matrimonial prospects. Mrs. Snow knew