n't let him
sleep in't overnight, much less to bunk in with a decent hog. You tell
him that I said the poorhouse was his proper dwellin', barrin' the jail,
an' that it 'd have to be a dum'd sight poorer house 'n I ever heard of
not to be a thousan' times too good fer him.'"

"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Cullom again. "I can't really 'magine it of Dave."

"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee, "I told ye how set he is on his young
days, an' nobody knows how cruel mean 'Lish used to be to him; but I
never see it come out of him so ugly before, though I didn't blame him a
mite. But I hain't told ye the upshot: 'Now,' he says to Smith, who set
with his mouth gappin' open, 'you understand how I feel about the
feller, an' I've got good reason for it. I want you to promise me that
you'll say to him, word fer word, jest what I've said to you about him,
an' I'll do this: You folks send him to the poorhouse, an' let him git
jest what the rest on 'em gits--no more an' no less--as long 's he
lives. When he dies you git him the tightest coffin you kin buy, to keep
him f'm spilin' the earth as long as may be, an' then you send me the
hull bill. But this has got to be between you an' me only. You c'n tell
the rest of the committee what you like, _but_ if you ever tell a
livin' soul about this here understandin', an' I find it out, I'll never
pay one cent, an' you'll be to blame. I'm willin', on them terms, to
stan' between the town of Whitcom an' harm; but fer 'Lish Harum, not one
sumarkee! Is it a barg'in?' Dave says.

"'Yes, sir,' says Smith, puttin' out his hand. 'An' I guess,' he says,
'f'm all 't I c'n gather, thet you're doin' all 't we could expect, an'
more too,' an' off he put."

"How 'd it come out?" asked Mrs. Cullom.

"'Lish lived about two year," replied Aunt Polly, "an' Dave done as he
agreed, but even then when he come to settle up, he told Smith he didn't
want no more said about it 'n could be helped."

"Wa'al," said Mrs. Cullom, "it seems to me as if David did take care on
him after all, fur 's spendin' money was concerned."

"That's the way it looks to me," said Mrs. Bixbee, "but David likes to
think t'other. He meant to be awful mean, an' he was--as mean as he
could--but the fact is, he didn't reelly know how. My sakes! Cynthy
(looking at the clock), I'll hev to excuse myself fer a spell. Ef you
want to do any fixin' up 'fore dinner, jest step into my bedroom. I've
laid some things out on the bed, if you should happen to want