"Well, now," pursued Mr. Weeks, "she's a good soul.  She has her little peculiarities; so have you and me, a lot of 'em; but she's thoroughly respectable, and there isn't a man or woman in the town that would think of saying a word against her.  She has only one child, a nice, quiet little girl who'd be company for her mother and make everything look right, you know."
"I don't see what there's been to look wrong," growled the farmer.
"Nothing to me and my folks, of course, or I wouldn't with her, he would sanction everything at oncehe answered. suggest the idea of a relation of my wife coming to live with you.  But you see people will talk unless you stop their mouths so they'll feel like fools in doing it.  I know yours has been a mighty awkward case, and here's a plain way out of it.  You can set yourself right and have everything looked after as it ought to be, in twenty-four hours.  We've talked to Cynthy--that's Mrs. Mumpson--and she takes a sight of interest.  She'd do well by you and straighten things out, and you might do a plaguey sight worse than give her the right to take care of your indoor affairs for life."
"I don't expect to marry again," said Holcroft curtly.
"Oh, well!  Many a man and woman has said that and believed it, too, at the time.  I'm not saying that my wife's cousin is inclined that way herself.  Like enough, she isn't at all, but then, the right kind of persuading does change women's minds sometimes, eh?  Mrs. Mumpson is, like yourself, and if she was sure of a good home and a kind husband there's no telling what good luck might happen to you.  But there'll be plenty of time for considering all that on both sides.  You can't live like a hermit."
"I was thinking of selling out and leaving these parts," Holcroft interrupted.
"Now look here, neighbor, you know as well as I do that in these times you couldn't give away the place.  What's the use of such foolishness?  The thing to do is to keep the farm and get a good living out of it.  You've got down in the dumps and can't see what's sensible and to your own advantage."
Holcroft was thinking deeply, and he turned his eyes wistfully to the upland slopes of his farm.  Mr. Weeks had talked plausibly, and if all had been as he represented, the plan would not have been a bad one.  But the widower did not yearn for the widow.  He did not know much about her, but had very unfavorable impressions.  Mrs. Holcroft had not been given to speaking ill of anyone, but she had always shaken her head with a peculiar significance when Mrs. Mumpson's name was mentioned.