rvice he could not have
received a heartier ovation than that bestowed upon the graceless
fugitive. He bowed from side to side in his own lordly way, and
flourished and extended his pudgy palm in courtly courtesy.

Mrs. Belcher sat back in her seat, shrinking from all these
demonstrations, for she knew that her husband was unworthy of them. The
carriages disappeared in the distance, and then--sad, suspicious,
uncommunicative--the men went off to draw their last dividend and go
about their work. They fought desperately against their own distrust. In
the proportion that they doubted the proprietor they were ready to
defend him; but there was not a man of them who had not been fairly
warned that he was running his own risk, and who had not sought for the
privilege of throwing away his money.

CHAPTER XII.

IN WHICH JIM ENLARGES HIS PLANS FOR A HOUSE, AND COMPLETES HIS PLANS FOR
A HOUSE-KEEPER.

When, at last, Jim and Mr. Benedict were left alone by the departure of
Mr. Balfour and the two lads, they sat as if they had been stranded by a
sudden squall after a long and pleasant voyage. Mr. Benedict was plunged
into profound dejection, and Jim saw that he must be at once and
persistently diverted.

"I telled Mr. Balfour," said he, "afore he went away, about the house. I
telled him about the stoop, an' the chairs, an' the ladder for posies to
run up on, an' I said somethin' about cubberds and settles, an' other
thingembobs that have come into my mind; an' says he: 'Jim, be ye goin'
to splice?' An' says I: 'If so be I can find a little stick as'll
answer, it wouldn't be strange if I did.' 'Well,' says he, 'now's yer
time, if ye're ever goin' to, for the hay-day of your life is a passin'
away.' An' says I: 'No, ye don't. My hay-day has jest come, and my grass
is dry an' it'll keep. It's good for fodder, an' it wouldn't make a bad
bed.'"

"What did he say to that?" inquired Mr. Benedict.

"Says he: 'I shouldn't wonder if ye was right. Have ye found the woman?'
'Yes,' says I. 'I have found a genuine creetur.' An' says he: 'What is
her name?' An' says I: 'That's tellin'. It's a name as oughter be
changed, an' it won't be my fault if it ain't.' An' then says he: 'Can I
be of any 'sistance to ye?' An' says I: 'No. Courtin' is like dyin'; ye
can't trust it to another feller. Ye've jest got to go it alone.' An'
then he laughed, an' says he: 'Jim, I wish ye good luck, an' I hope
ye'll live to have a little feller o' yer