"Because I am to marry a rich widow," said Mr. Craven.
"Aha! that is very good," said Job, laughing. "Marrying isn't exactly in my line, to be sure. Who is the lucky woman?"
"I will tell you, Mr. Green, for I want you to help me in the matter."
"How can I help you? You don't want money if you are going to marry a fortune," said Job, beginning to be suspicious that this was a story trumped up to deceive him.
"Yes, I do, and I will tell you why. She thinks I am rich."
"And marries you for your money? Aha! that is very good," and the man laughed.
"I told her I owned twenty thousand dollars' worth of stock in a Lake Superior mine."
"Very good."
"And a fifteen-thousand-dollar house in this city."
"Oh, you droll dog! You'll kill me with laughing, Mr. Craven; I shall certainly choke," and old Job, struck with the drollness of regarding the man before him as a capitalist, laughed till he was seized with a coughing spell.