She learned a good deal about the nieces，for old Noracould not praise them enough.They were always sweet and kind to her and she loved to talk about them.They were all rich，too，or would be；for their uncle had no children of his own and could leave several millions to each one when he died."An'they're so simple，too，"said the old woman；"nothin'cityfied ner stuck—upb about any on 'em，I kin tell ye.They dresses as ？ne as the Queen o'Sheba，Tom says；but they rompc 'round just like they was borned in the country.Miss Patsy she's learnin'to milk the cow，an'Miss Beth takes care o'the chickens all by herself.They're reg'lar girls，MarthyClark，an'money hain't spiled 'em a bit."This report tended to waken a great ambition in the widow's heart.Or perhaps the ambition had already taken formand this gossip con？rmed and established it.Before she left the farm she had a chance to secretly observe the girls，and they met with her full approval.
At supper that evening she said to her hopeful：
"Skim，I want ye to go courtin'."Skim looked up in amazement."Me，ma？"he asked.
"Yes，you.It's time you was thinkin'of gittin'married."Skim held his knife in his mouth a moment while he thought over this startling proposition.Then he removed the cutlery，heaved a deep sigh，and enquired：
"Who at，ma？"
"What's that？"
"Who'll I go courtin'at？"
"Skim，you 'member in thet las'book we read，'The Angel Maniac's Revenge，'there was a sayin'that fate knocks wunst on ev'ry man's door.Well，fate's knockin'on your door."Skim listened，with a nervous glance toward the doorway.
Then he shook his head.
"All fool fancy，ma，"he remarked."Don't ye go an'git no rumantic notions out'n books inter yer head.""Skim，am I a fool，er ain't I？""'Tain't fer me ter say，ma.""Fate's knockin'，an'if you don't open to it，Skim，I'll wash my hands o'a ye，an'ye kin jest starve to death."The boy looked disturbed.
"What's aggrivatin'of ye，then？"he enquired，anxiously."A millionaire is come right under yer nose.He's here in Millville，with three galsa fer nieces thet's all got money tosquanderb an's bound to hev more."Skim gave a low whistle.
"Ye don't mean fer me to be courtin'at them gals，do ye？"he demanded.
"Why not？Yer fambly's jest as respectible as any，'cept thet yer Uncle Mell backslided after the last revival，an'went to a hoss race.Yer young，an'yer han'some；an'there's three gals waitin'ready to be won by a bold wooerc.Be bold，Skim；take fate by the fetlock，an'yer fortun's made easy！"Skim did not reply at once.He gulped downd his tea and stared at the opposite wall in deep thought.It wasn't such a "tarnale bad notion，"after all，and so thoroughly impressed was he with his own importance and merit that it never occurred to him he would meet with any dif？culties if he choseto undertake the conquest.
"Peggy says marri'ge is the mark of a fool；an'Peggy married money，too，"he remarked slowly.
"Pah！money！Mary Ann Cotting didn't hev but a hundred an'forty dollars，all told，an'she were an old maidan'soured an'squint—eyed when Peggy hitched up with her.""I hain't seen nuthin'o'the world，yit，"continued Skim，evasivelya.
"Ner ye won't nuther，onless ye marry money.Any one o'
them gals could take ye to Europe an'back a dozen times."Skim re？ected still farther.
"Courtin'ought to hev some decent clothes，"he said."Ikain't set in the nabob's parlor，with all thet slick furnitur'，in Nick Thorne's cast—off b Sunday suit.""The cloth's as good as ever was made，an'I cut 'em downmyself，an'stitched 'em all over.""They don't look like store clothes，though，"objected Skim.
The widow sighed.
"Tain't the coat that makes the man，Skim."
"It's the coat thet makes decent courtin'，though，"he maintained，stubbornly."Gals like to see a feller dressed up.It shows he means businessc an''mounts to somethin'.""I give Nick Thorne two dollars an'a packidge o'terbacker fer them clotlies，which the on'y thing wrong about was they'd got too snug fer comfert.Nick said so himself.But I'll make a bargain with ye，Skim.Ef you'll agree to give me ？fty dollars after yer married，I'll buy ye some store clothes o'Sam Cotting，to do courtin'in.""Fifty dollars！""Well，I've brung ye up，hain't I？""I've worked like a nigger，mindin'shop.""Say forty dollars.I ain't small，an'ef ye git one o'them city gals，Skim，forty dollars won't mean no more'n a wink of an eye to ye."Skim frowned.Then he smiled，and the smile disclosed a front tooth missing.
"I'll dream on't，"he said."Let ye know in the mornin'，ma.But I won't court a minite，mind ye，'nless I git store clothes."
