"Since I sent my last letter, there have been great changes at your uncle's farm. He has discharged the housekeeper, and some say he is courting the Widow Guff. For all I know they'll be married pretty soon. More than that, I heard somebody say that he was thinking of coming to New York to look for you."
Nat read this communication with close attention. He knew the Widow Guff as a person who took boarders in the town where he had sold his cow. She had three children, and had the reputation of being a rather tart and self-willed woman.
"I shouldn't think Uncle Abner would want to marry that widow," thought Nat. "Wonder what put it into his head? And what put it into his head to come to New York to look for me? I'd rather he would keep his distance."
Nat did not know that for the past few months the Widow Guff had had a hard time of it with a number of her boarders, and could scarcely make both ends meet, yet such was a fact.
One day the widow called on a friend, and from this friend learned that Abner Balberry had discharged his housekeeper, and was keeping house by himself.
"It's a shame for him to be all alone," thought the widow. "And with that nephew of his away, too! Some good woman ought to be keeping house for him."
The widow had long had her eye on Abner Balberry, whom she knew fairly well. She knew Abner was well-to-do, and keeping a boarding house seemed of a sudden a great burden to her.
"Wish I could make Abner propose," she said to herself. "He just ought to have a wife."
So the widow kept on thinking, and by and by her face brightened. She had an idea, which she resolved to put into execution the very first opportunity.
"Fred," said she to her son, a tall gawk of a boy, "I want you to go to Mr. Abner Balberry's house, and ask him if he will stop in and see me the first time he comes to town."