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212 Bell came off his pedestal. “But it is Abbie Abbott, here, who told us of you.”

“Indeed!” said Joel, bowing as if he were acknowledging an introduction. “An’ t’ best o’ my knowledge an’ belief I never met the lady before now.”

“You didn’t! But my cousin Lemuel Abbott, the plumber, told me ’bout you,” snapped Abbie, unbearably annoyed by her own embarrassment at this extreme gallantry.

“Better close the deal now, Joel; we shall not care about coming again to see you,” advised Win, seeing that Joel needed less than no time for consideration of the offer.

“Well, I might try it, s’long’s you need a man,” Joel said graciously. “I’ll be taken on as a gardener, till you learn me to shofer real good. I’m poor, but I’m straight; I wouldn’t take wages I hadn’t earnt.”

“Right-o!” Win approved him, as Mrs. Garden, entirely at sea as to how to deal with this unknown type of servant, murmured something about this being satisfactory.

“Move on, Janie!” said Win, watching Jane manipulate the starting button and the gas. “Turn on your lights before we start; you’ll need them to drive.”