"Of what age is he?" asked Miss Emmerson.
"About fifty," replied the man, thinking years would be a recommendation.
"Fifty!" exclaimed Julia, in a tone of disappointment.
"'Tis too old," said Miss Emmerson; "he should be able to undergo fatigue."
"Well, I may be mistaken—Oh, he can't be more than forty, or thirty," continued the man, watching the countenance of Julia; "he is a man that looks much older than he is."
"Is he strong and active?"
"I guess he is—he's as strong as an ox, and active as a cat," said the other, determined he should pass.
"Well, then," said the aunt, in her satisfied way, "let every thing be ready for us in Albany by next Tuesday. We shall leave home on Monday."
The man withdrew.
Julia had heard enough—for ox she had substituted Hercules, and for cat, she read the feathered Mercury.