CHAPTER XIX.
THE ROMANCE OF A RING.
Ferdinand B.Kensington, as he called himself, removed the next morning to the house of Aunt Deborah.

The latter received him very cordially, partly because it was a pleasant relief to her solitude to have a lively and active young man in the house, partly because she was not forced to look upon him as a poor relation in need of pecuniary assistance.

She even felt considerable respect for the prospective recipient of an income of two thousand dollars, which in her eyes was a magnificent salary.
Ferdinand, on his part, spared no pains to make himself agreeable to the old lady, whom he had a mercenary object in pleasing.

Finding that she was curious to hear about the great city, which to her was as unknown as London or Paris, be gratified her by long accounts, chiefly of as imaginative character, to which she listened greedily.
These included some personal adventures, in all of which he figured very creditably.
Here is a specimen.
"By the way, Aunt Deborah," he said, casually, "have you noticed this ring on my middle finger ?" "No, I didn't notice it before, Ferdinand.

It's very handsome." "I should think it ought to be, Aunt Deborah," said the young man.
"Why ?" "It cost enough to be handsome." "How much did it cost ?" asked the old lady, not without curiosity.
"Guess." "I aint no judge of such things; I've only got this plain gold ring.
Yours has got some sort of a stone in it." "That stone is a diamond, Aunt Deborah!" "You don't say so! Let me look at it.