“‘It is the irony of fate,’ says he.

“‘I got it off the blacksmith over to Wellmouth Centre,’ Nate told him; ’but he might have got it from Fate, or whoever you mean.  ’Twas slippery iron, I know that, and I warned you against steppin’ on it yesterday.’

“The professor more’n hinted that Nate was a dunderhead idiot, and then he commenced to holler for Tolliver; he wanted to see Tolliver right off.  Scudder thought he’d ought to see a doctor, but he wouldn’t, so Nate plastered him up best he could, got him into the big chair in the front room, and went huntin’ Augustus.  Him and Olivia was still camped in the sand bank.  Gus’s right arm had got tired by this time, I cal’late, but he had a new hitch with his left.  Likewise they was still starin’ into each other’s specs.

“‘Excuse me for interruptin’ the mesmerism,’ says Nate, ’but the professor wants to see you.’

“They jumped and broke away.  But it took more’n that to bring ’em down out of the clouds.  They’d been flyin’ a good sight higher than the old aeroplane had yet.

“‘Uncle Nathan,’ says Augustus, gettin’ up and shakin’ hands, ’I have the most wonderful news for you.  It’s hardly believable.  You’ll never guess it.’

“‘Give me three guesses and I’ll win on the fust,’ says Nate.  ’You two are engaged.’

“They looked at him as if he’d done somethin’ wonderful.  ‘But, Uncle,’ says Gus, shakin’ hands again, ’just think! she’s actually consented to marry me.’

“‘Well, that’s gen’rally understood to be a part of engagin’, ain’t it?’ says Nate.  ’I’m glad to hear it.  Miss Dixland, I congratulate you.  You’ve got a fine, promisin’ young man.’

“That, to Nate’s notion, was about the biggest lie he ever told, but Olivia swallered it for gospel.  She seemed to thaw toward Scudder a little mite, but ’twa’n’t at a permanent melt, by no means.

“‘Thank you, Mr. Scudder,’ says she, still pretty frosty.  ’I am full aware of Mr. Tolliver’s merits.  I’m glad to learn that you recognize them.  He has told some things concernin’ his stay at your home which—­’

“‘Yes, yes,’ says Nate, kind of hurried.  ’Well, I’m sorry to dump bad news into a puddle of happiness like this, but your Uncle Ansel, Miss Dixland, has been tryin’ to fly without his machine, and he’s sorry for it.’

“Then he told what had happened to the professor, and Olivia started on the run for the house.  Augustus was goin’, too, but Nate held him back.

“‘Wait a minute, Gus,’ says he.  ’Walk along with me; I want to talk with you.  Now, as an older man, your nighest relation, and one that’s come to love you like a son—­yes, sir, like a son—­I think it’s my duty just now to say a word of advice.  You’re goin’ to marry a nice girl that’s comin’ in for a lot of money one of these days.  The professor, he’s kind of old, his roof leaks consider’ble, and this trouble is likely to hurry the end along.