“‘Um-hm,’ says she, bouncin’ her head again.  ’Inside of four year I traveled ’way over to South Eastboro—­’most twelve mile—­to my Uncle Issy’s fun’ral, and there I found that he’d left me nine hundred dollars for my very own.  And down I flops on the parlor sofy and says I:  “There! don’t talk superstition to me no more!  A person that can foretell Uncle Issy’s givin’ anybody a cent, let alone nine hundred dollars, is a good enough prophet for me to tie to.  Now I know that I’m going to marry the dark-complected man, and I’ll be ready for him when he comes along.  I never spent a quarter no better than when I handed it over to that Oriental Seer critter at the Cattle Show.”  That’s what I said then and I b’lieve it yet.  Wouldn’t you feel the same way?’

“I said sure thing I would.  I’d found out that the best way to keep Effie’s talk shop runnin’ was to agree with her.  And I liked to hear her talk.

“‘Yup,’ she went on, ’I give right in then.  I’d traveled same as the fortune teller said, and I’d got more money’n I ever expected to see, let alone own.  And ever sence I’ve been sartin as I’m alive that the feller I marry will be of a rank higher’n mine and dark complected and good-lookin’ and distinguished, and that he’ll be name of Butler.’

“‘Butler?’ says I.  ‘What will he be named Butler for?’

“’’Cause the Seer critter said so.  He said he could see the word Butler printed out over the top of my head in flamin’ letters.  Pa used to say ‘twas a wonder it never set fire to my crimps, but he was only foolin’.  I know that it’s all comin’ out true.  You ain’t acquaintanced to any Butlers, are you?’

“‘No,’ says I.  ’I heard Ben Butler make a speech once when he was gov’nor, but he’s dead now.  There ain’t no Butlers on the Old Home shippin’ lists.’

“‘Oh, I know that!’ she says.  ’And everybody round here is homelier’n a moultin’ pullet.  There now!  I didn’t mean exactly EVERYbody, of course.  But you ain’t dark complected, you know, nor—­’

“‘No,’ says I, ’nor rank nor distinguished neither.  Course the handsome part might fit me, but I’d have to pass on the rest of the hand.  That’s all right, Effie; my feelin’s have got fire-proofed sence I’ve been in the summer hotel business.  Now you’d better run along and report to Susannah.  I hear her whoopin’ for you, and she don’t light like a canary bird on the party she’s mad with.’

“She didn’t, that was a fact.  Susannah Debs, who was housekeeper for us that year, was middlin’ young and middlin’ good-lookin’, and couldn’t forget it.  Also and likewise, she had a suit for damages against the railroad, which she had hopes would fetch her money some day or other, and she couldn’t forget that neither.  She was skipper of all the hired hands and, bein’ as Effie was prettier than she was, never lost a chance to lay the poor girl out.  She put the other help up to pokin’ fun at Effie’s green ways and high-toned notions, and ’twas her that started ‘em callin’ her ‘Lady Evelyn’ in the fo’castle—­servants’ quarters, I mean.