od Lord, honey! what makes you run on that way?"

"He tol' me so," said Babe.

"Jealous!" exclaimed Grandsir Hightower, "jealous er that young feller!
Merciful powers, honey! he's a-begrudgin' 'im the vittles what he eats.
I know'd it the minnit I seed 'im come a-sa'nterin' in the yard. Lord,
Lord! I wish in my soul the poor creetur could git a chance at one er
them ar big Whig barbecues what they useter have."

But there was small consolation in all this for Babe; and she went into
the house, where her forlorn appearance attracted the attention of her
mother. "Why, Babe! what in the worl'!" exclaimed this practical woman,
dropping her work in amazement. "What in the name er sense ails you?"
Babe had no hesitation in telling her mother the facts.

"Well, my goodness!" was Mrs. Hightower's comment, "I wouldn't go aroun'
whinin' about it, ef I wuz you--that I wouldn't. Nobody never ketched me
whinin' 'roun' atter your pappy 'fore we wuz married, an' he wuz lots
purtier than what Tuck Peevy is. When your pappy got tetchy, I thes says
to myself, s'I: 'Ef I'm wuth havin', I'm wuth scramblin' atter;' an' ef
your pappy hadn't 'a' scrambled an' scuffled 'roun' he wouldn't 'a' got
me nuther, ef I do up an' say it myself. I'd a heap druther see you
fillin' them slays an' a-fixin' up for to weave your pappy some shirts,
than to see you a-whinin' 'roun' atter any chap on the top side er the
yeth, let 'lone Tuck Peevy."

There was little consolation even in this, but Babe went about her
simple duties with some show of spirit; and when her father and
Chichester returned from their trip on Sweetwater, it would have
required a sharp eye to discover that Babe regarded herself as "wearing
the green willow." For a few days she avoided Chichester, as if to prove
her loyalty to Peevy; but as Peevy was not present to approve her
conduct or to take advantage of it, she soon grew tired of playing an
unnecessary part. Peevy persisted in staying away; and the result was
that Babe's anger--a healthy quality in a young girl--got the better of
her grief. Then wonder took the place of anger; but behind it all was
the hope that before many days Peevy would saunter into the house, armed
with his inscrutable smile, and inquire, as he had done a hundred times
before, how long before dinner would be ready. This theory was held by
Grandsir Hightower, but, as it was a very plausible one, Babe adopted it
as her own.

Meanwhile, it is not to be suppose