But she closed his mouth with her hand.
“Leave him to me, brother,” she said, as she turned away. “I'm old enough to take care of myself, and—and—well, I know men better than you do.”
When Alan reached home he found that Miller and Adele had been there half an hour. His mother met him at the door with a mysterious smile on her sweet old face, as she nodded at the closed door of the parlor.
“Don't go in there now,” she whispered. “Adele and Mr. Miller have been there ever since they come. I railly believe they are in love with each other. I never saw young folks act more like it. When I met 'em it looked jest like he wanted to kiss me, he was so happy. Now wouldn't it be fine if they was to get married? He's the nicest man in the State, and the best catch.”
“Oh, mother,” said Alan, “you don't understand. Rayburn Miller is—”
“Well, Adele will know how to manage him,” broke in the old lady, too full of her view of the romance to harken to his; “she ain't no fool, son. She 'll twist him around her finger if she wants to. She's pretty, an' stylish, an' as sharp as a brier. Ah, he's jest seen it all and wants her; you can't fool me! I know how people act when they are in love. I've seen hundreds, and I never saw a worse case on both sides than this is.”
Going around to the stables to see that his horses were properly attended to, Alan met his uncle leaning over the rail-fence looking admiringly at a young colt that was prancing around the lot.
“Christmas gift,” said the old man, suddenly. “I ketched you that time shore pop.”
“Yes, you got ahead of me,” Alan admitted.
The old man came nearer to him, nodding his head towards the house. “Heerd the news?” he asked, with a broad grin of delight.