contemptuously. "Land sakes! Comin' here from
New York! He won't stan' it there a week."

"Wa'al," replied David, "mebbe he will an' mebbe he won't, but I don't
see what else the' is for it, an' I guess 'twon't kill him for a spell
The fact is--" he was proceeding when Mrs. Bixbee interrupted him.

"I guess we'd better adjourn t' the settin'-room an' let Sairy clear off
the tea-things," she said, rising and going into the kitchen.

"What was you sayin'?" she asked, as she presently found her brother in
the apartment designated, and seated herself with her mending-basket in
her lap.

"The fact is, I was sayin'," he resumed, sitting with hand and forearm
resting on a round table, in the centre of which was a large kerosene
lamp, "that my notion was, fust off, to have him come here, but when I
come to think on't I changed my mind. In the fust place, except that
he's well recommended, I don't know nothin' about him; an' in the
second, you'n I are pretty well set in our ways, an' git along all right
just as we be. I may want the young feller to stay, an' then agin I may
not--we'll see. It's a good sight easier to git a fishhook in 'n 'tis to
git it out. I expect he'll find it putty tough at first, but if he's a
feller that c'n be drove out of bus'nis by a spell of the Eagle Tavern,
he ain't the feller I'm lookin' fer--though I will allow," he added with
a grimace, "that it'll be a putty hard test. But if I want to say to
him, after tryin' him a spell, that I guess me an' him don't seem likely
to hitch, we'll both take it easier if we ain't livin' in the same
house. I guess I'll take a look at the Trybune," said David, unfolding
that paper.

Mrs. Bixbee went on with her needlework, with an occasional side glance
at her brother, who was immersed in the gospel of his politics. Twice
or thrice she opened her lips as if to address him, but apparently some
restraining thought interposed. Finally, the impulse to utter her mind
culminated. "Dave," she said, "d' you know what Deakin Perkins is sayin'
about ye?"

David opened his paper so as to hide his face, and the corners of his
mouth twitched as he asked in return, "Wa'al, what's the deakin sayin'
now?"

"He's sayin'," she replied, in a voice mixed of indignation and
apprehension, "thet you sold him a balky horse, an' he's goin' to hev
the law on ye." David's shoulders shook behind the sheltering page, and
his mouth expanded in a grin.

"Wa'al," he replied after a momen