"Ha, ha, ha; no more they ought. I'll tell McEvoy that." McEvoy
had been a former engineer on the line. "Well, that won't burst
with any frost, I guess."

"Oh my! how pretty!" said the widow, and then Susan of course jumped
up to look over her mother's shoulder.

The artful dodger! he had drawn and coloured a beautiful little
sketch of a bridge; not an engineer's plan with sections and
measurements, vexatious to a woman's eye, but a graceful little
bridge with a string of cars running under it. You could almost
hear the bell going.

"Well; that is a pretty bridge," said Susan. "Isn't it, Hetta?"

"I don't know anything about bridges," said Hetta, to whose clever
eyes the dodge was quite apparent. But in spite of her cleverness
Mrs. Bell and Susan had soon moved their chairs round to the table,
and were looking through the contents of Aaron's portfolio. "But
yet he may be a wolf," thought the poor widow, just as she was
kneeling down to say her prayers.

That evening certainly made a commencement. Though Hetta went on
pertinaciously with the body of a new dress, the other two ladies
did not put in another stitch that night. From his drawings Aaron
got to his instruments, and before bedtime was teaching Susan how to
draw parallel lines. Susan found that she had quite an aptitude for
parallel lines, and altogether had a good time of it that evening.
It is dull to go on week after week, and month after month, talking