nin' glory flower--always a changing; an' I know you
could learn to love me."

"Oh, you do. Well, what you know and what's the truth won't never know
each other well enough to shake hands."

Peters smiled upon her, "Wall, if nuthin' else did, that of itself would
prove you air old Jasper's daughter."

Margaret Starbuck came in, with a pan of turnips. Peters bowed to her.
"Er good mornin', ma'm."

She put the pan on the table and giving him an unconscious grace bade
him good morning. "Is mammy done ironin'?" she asked, speaking to Lou.

"Yes'm, I reckon so." Then she added, speaking to Peters, "Is there
anythin' else you wanted?"

"Why, Lou," Margaret spoke up, "is that the way to talk?"

"Yes'm, sometimes," and nodding at Peters she added: "And this is one of
them." She laughed, turned away and sat down with her elbows resting on
a battered old melodeon.

"Oh, she's jest a jokin' with me ma'm," said Peters. "I wanted to see
yo' husband. Reckon he's out some whar on the place."

"I think so," Margaret replied, peeling the turnips. "I heard him
calling the hogs just now."

Lou looked at Peters and said: "Then why don't you go?"

"Why, daughter," exclaimed Margaret, "you musn't talk that way. Mr.
Peters is in yo' house."

She came forward and to the visitor bowed with mock humility. "I beg
your pardon, Mr. Peters--"

"Oh, that's all right, Miss Lou."

"For bein' honest with you."

Peters cleared his throat. She returned to the melodeon and sat down
with her back toward him. Peters started out but halted and spoke to
Margaret. "Suthin' I have been workin' fur a long time is about to
come--an app'intment I've been tryin' to git, and when I git it there
air folks that ought to be skeered."

Lou glanced round at him and replied, "And then again, there are folks
that won't be."

"Ah," said Peters, "an' them that won't be air them that ought to be."
And then to Margaret he added: "If I don't find Jasper I'll be back.
When he comes tell him I want to see him. Good day."

When he had gone out into the road Margaret inquired of her daughter
what he had said to give such offense.

"He said I could learn to love him. And I as much as told him he was a
liar."

"But, daughter, you musn't talk like that. You'll have to be more
careful with him, for in some way he's got the upper hand of yo'
father."

"Well, I don't envy him his job."

"Hush," said Margaret. "Here come the folks."

CHAPTER III.

GE