Mary Ellen sniffed the air for a moment in speechless incredulity, and
then, locking her hands around her knees and bending forward, said,
"Look here! Ef that old woman o' yours ever knew what temper was in a
man; ef she's ever bin tied to a brute that treated her like a nigger
till she daren't say her soul was her own; who struck her with his
eyes and tongue when he hadn't anythin' else handy; who made her life
miserable when he was sober, and a terror when he was drunk; who at
last drove her away, and then divorced her for desertion--then--then she
might talk. But 'incompatibility o' temper' with you! Oh, go away--it
makes me sick!"

How far Abner was impressed with the truth of this, how far it prompted
his next question, nobody but Abner knew. For he said deliberately, "I
was only goin' to ask ye, if, knowin' I was a di-vorced man, ye would
mind marryin' me!"

Mary Ellen's face changed; the evasive instincts of her sex rose up.
"Didn't I hear ye sayin' suthin' about refreshments," she said archly.
"Mebbe you wouldn't mind gettin' me a bottle o' lemming sody outer the
bar!"

Abner got up at once, perhaps not dismayed by this diversion, and
departed for the refreshment. As he passed along the side veranda the
recollection of Mr. Byers and his mysterious flight occurred to him. For
a wild moment he thought of imitating him. But it was too late now--he
had spoken. Besides, he had no wife to fly to, and the thirsty or
indignant Byers had--his wife! Fate was indeed hard. He returned with
the bottle of lemon soda on a tray and a resigned spirit equal to her
decrees. Mary Ellen, remarking that he had brought nothing for himself,
archly insisted upon his sharing with her the bottle of soda, and even
coquettishly touched his lips with her glass. Abner smiled patiently.

But here, as if playfully exhilarated by the naughty foaming soda, she
regarded him with her head--and a good deal of her blonde hair--very
much on one side, as she said, "Do you know that all along o' you bein'
so free with me in tellin' your affairs I kinder feel like just telling
you mine?"

"Don't," said Abner promptly.

"Don't?" echoed Miss Budd.

"Don't," repeated Abner. "It's nothing to me. What I said about myself
is different, for it might make some difference to you. But nothing you
could say of yourself would make any change in me. I stick to what I
said just now."

"But," said Miss Budd,--in half real, half simulated threatening,--"wh