Part 28 (1/2)

”Our acquaintance hasn't ripened into friends.h.i.+p.”

He laughed and replied: ”Well, the bloom may be as putty as the fruit.”

”Very good. I didn't expect it--of you.”

”Didn't expect me at all, did you?”

”If I had I should not have remained here.”

He cleared his throat. ”I know all about bees, but I didn't know befo'

that a b.u.t.terfly could sting. But I'd ruther be stung than to have no attention paid to me at all.” She arose to go away, but he intercepted her. ”Beggin' yo' pardon, ma'm, for what I've said an' what I am about to say, will you let me talk business to you for about a minit?”

”I know nothing about business,” she replied.

”But you know somethin' about love, don't you? Putty much the same thing.”

”How dare you talk to--”

”Now, don't be fretted. I've got my own way of gittin' at a p'int. I'm a thorn bush by the road-side. The sheep comes along an' I pick off some of their wool. An' towards me there comes an old sheep, with his eyes shet, a shakin' of his head. An' he'll lose all his wool. But you could turn him aside.”

”I don't know what you mean, sir.”

”Starbuck is the old sheep. You'd better help turn him aside. A word from you'll do it. I told him I wanted to borry a thousand dollars.

He'll understand. You tell him to lend it to me.”

”I will do nothing of the sort, you--”

”If you don't, you'll be sorry. Jest now I spoke to you about love. It wan't an accident. No. An' if he don't let me have the money, Jim the preacher may be ashamed to preach ag'in. An' he won't talk no mo'

honeysuckle to you, nuther. He will disappear, an' yo' heart may grieve, but yo' jedgment will be glad.”

”You infamous scoundrel.”

He bowed to her. ”The scoundrel sometimes tells the truth, an' when he do it's the worst truth in the world; an' if I'm a scoundrel that's the sort of truth I'm a tellin'.”

”Go away from here, you brute.”

”All right, all right. I have give you yo' chance, an' now I must have it out with the old sheep. When I see you ag'in yo' eyes may not be so bright. A hot pillow, turned over an' over in the night, when the rooster crows an' thar ain't no sleep, ain't good fur the eyes. I'm goin' now, an' you better think it over. Good-day, ma'm. I have give you yo' chance an' my conscience is clear.”

He walked off up the road and she was about to go into the house when Old Jasper came along, with an axe on his shoulder. Seeing that she was disturbed, he inquired if anything were wrong.

”Why, that man Peters was here a moment ago, and--”

”Oh, don't pay no attention to him. He's a joker,” said the old man, and going to a bench near the fence, poured water into a tin can, went to the grind-stone, and upon it began slowly to pour a stream.

Mrs. Mayfield stood near, watching him, but her mind reverted to Peters.

”But he says--”

”Never mind what he says,” the old fellow broke in, grinding his axe.