ly in
earnest, however, as he stood up again and declared his love, and beat
his breast and pretended to tear at his hair:

"'Ef you-all refuse me Ah shall end mah wretched existence! What is life
widdout love? Oh, beuchus maiden--' no, no, Ah musen't call her
'_maiden_' er she'll knock me down," murmured Jeb, scratching his head
in perplexity.

His audience almost choked with laughter, but he suddenly brightened up
again and said to himself: "Yeh, that's it! She'll like thet." Then he
began again with one hand over his heart and the other tearing at the
thin covering of hair on his head, "'Ef you-all refuse me Ah shall end
this wretched life--' no, _no_! Ah shall end this wretched EXISTENCE!
What is life widdout love? Oh, beau-chus _widder_, will you-all be
mine?"

As Jeb spoke his last lines, he smirked to himself and said: "Thar now,
Jeb! That'll fetch her, er John's all wrong."

Polly and Eleanor looked at each other in consternation. Who was the
widow--and what had John to do with this proposal?

Jeb was placing the little paper book in his breast pocket when the
girls looked out again. Then he picked up the bucket of swill and ran
over to feed the pigs. His audience, up in the loft, heard him still
reciting various love-thrilling lines to himself, as the pigs grunted
and snorted and ate their supper. But Eleanor said they'd better get
away before Jeb found them.

[Illustration: JEB WAS PRACTICING LOVE-MAKING FROM A BOOK.

_Polly and Eleanor._ _Page 169_]

Polly studied her brother's face keenly, during supper, but John seemed
as free from guile as any babe. So after the table was cleared, she went
up to him and whispered: "Did you tell Jeb to propose to any widow you
know?"

"Why?" John's eyes twinkled with fun.

"Because he was behind the shed all afternoon, reciting impassioned
lines he had learned in a paper book. We heard him say that that would
fetch the widow or you wasn't as wise as you seemed to be."

John laughed loudly, and merely murmured: "We ought to be on guard
to-night, lest Jeb commit some folly. Better watch him, Polly, and see
where he goes, eh?"

"He never goes anywhere on Sunday nights. He sits on the terrace by the
crater and smokes his pipe."

"Well, he is safe there, but if you see him come by, all togged out in
his church clothes, let me know and I'll see that he comes to no harm.
He may be a bit off, you know," John lightly tapped his head as he
spoke.

"Oh, I ho