[Illustration:  TOBY AND THE CRAZY LOON.]

“Toby thought about it for a long time.  He did not wish to take any rash step, but his back got lamer and stiffer, and when one day the soup burned on to the kettle, and he dropped some stitches in his stocking running to lift it off, he made up his mind.

“The very next morning after his six grandchildren had gone to school, he put on his coat with phosphorescent buttons, lit his lantern, and started out. Link, link, bobolink! cried the crazy loon as he went out the door.

“’Yes; I am going to bring home a pleasant and neat mistress for you, and maybe you will recover your reason,’ said Toby.

“Link, link, bobolink! cried the crazy loon.

“Toby limped away through the darkness.  The wind was blowing hard that morning, and as he turned the corner, puff! came a gust and blew out his lantern.

“He felt in every pocket, but he had not a match in one of them.  He hesitated whether to go back for one or not.  Finally, he thought he knew the way pretty well and would risk it.  His back was worse than ever that morning, and he did not want to take any unnecessary steps.  So he fumbled along until he came to the street where the widow’s home was; there were five more just like hers, and they stood in a row together.

“Much to Toby’s dismay, there was not a light in either.

“‘Well,’ he reflected, ’she is prudent, and is saving her oil, I dare say, and I can inquire.’

“So he felt his way along to the first house in the row—­he could just see them looming up in the darkness.  He poked his head inside the door.  ‘Mrs. Clover-leaf!’ cried he, ’are you in there?  My lantern has gone out, and I cannot tell which is your house.’

“There came a little grunt in reply.

“‘Mrs. Clover-leaf!’ cried Toby again.

“‘I am here; what do you want?’ answered a voice in the darkness.

“It was so sharp that Toby felt for a moment as if his ears were being sawed off, and he clapped his hands on them involuntarily.  ’Bless me!  I had forgotten that Mrs. Clover-leaf had such a voice,’ thought he.

“‘What do you want?’ said the voice again.

“It did not sound quite so sharp this time.  He had become a little used to it, and, after all, a sharp voice would not prevent her being neat and pleasant and stirring the soup carefully.

“So he said, as sweetly and coaxingly as he was able, ’I have come to see if you would like to marry me, Mrs. Clover-leaf.’

“‘I don’t know,’ said the sharp voice, ’I had not thought of changing my condition.’

“‘All you would have to do,’ said Toby pleadingly, ’would be to stir the soup for my grandchildren’s dinner, while I knit the stockings.’

“There came a sound like the smacking of lips out of the darkness within the house.  ‘Oh! you have grandchildren; I forgot,’ said the voice; ‘how many?’