h, and one whole
side of his face was raw and bleeding.

"But he never thought of himself, though the agony he endured must have
been awful. His first word was about his sister: 'Is Fanny hurt?' And
when he was told that she was unharmed, he closed his eyes, saying,
'Don't worry about me.' We brought him here--it was Fanny's wish--and by
the time he had been placed in bed, the muscles of his mouth were drawn
as you see them now. There was nothing to do but to apply cold water,
and this was done for the most part by Major Perdue, though both Fanny
and I were anxious to relieve him. I never saw a man so devoted in his
attentions. He was absolutely tireless; and I was so struck with his
tender solicitude that I felt obliged to make to him what was at once a
confession and an apology. 'I once thought, Major Perdue, that you were
a hard and cruel man,' said I, 'but I'll never think so again.'

"'But why did you think so in the first place?' he asked.

"'Well, I had heard of several of your shooting scrapes,' I replied.

"He regarded me with a smile. 'There are two sides to everything,
especially a row,' he said. 'I made up my mind when a boy that
turn-about is fair play. When I insult a man, I'm prepared to take the
consequences; yet I never insulted a man in my life. The man that
insults me must pay for it. Women may wipe their feet on me, and
children may spit on me; but no man shall insult me, not by so much as
the lift of an eyelash, or the twitch of an upper-lip. Pulaski here has
done me many a favour, some that he tried to hide, and I'd never get
through paying him if I were to nurse him night and day for the rest of
my natural life. In some things, Ma'am, you'll find me almost as good as
a dog.'

"I must have given him a curious stare," continued Mrs. Lumsden, "for he
laughed softly, and remarked, 'If you'll think it over, Ma'am, you'll
find that a dog has some mighty fine qualities.' And it is true."

"But what about Margaret Gaither?" inquired Nan, who was determined that
the love-story should not be lost in a wilderness of trifles--as she
judged them to be.

"Poor Margaret!" murmured Gabriel's grandmother. "I declare! I had
almost forgotten her. Well, bright and early the next morning, Margaret
came and asked to see Pulaski Tomlin. I left her in the parlour, and
carried her request to the sick-room.

"'Brother,' said Fanny, 'Margaret is here, and wants to see you. Shall
she come in?'

"I saw Pulaski clen