your
plodding judgment, I will not go to the negro's cabin, but will proceed
rather to my own shanty. And I want you to come with me. Tom Cranceford
and Sallie Pruitt will be there and in the shine of the fire we'll cut
many a scollop. What do you say?"

"Uncle Gideon, don't you know how strongly opposed Mrs. Cranceford is to
Tom's----"

"Bah, law-abiding calf. They are going to marry anyway, so what's the
difference? Jimmie, the most useless man in the world is the fellow that
keeps just within the law. But perhaps it isn't your law-abiding spirit
so much as it is your fear. In blind and stupid obedience there is a
certain sort of gallantry, and in trotting to Mrs. Cranceford's cluck
you may be wise."

"It's not that I'm afraid of offending her," the giant said. "The girl
is too good for Tom any day, or for any of us when it comes to that, but
the distress of his mother haunts me, and I don't want that girl's
affection for Tom to haunt me too. I don't want to see them together if
I can help it. One haunt at a time is enough. But I tell you this, if it
should come to a question I would decide in favor of the girl."

"Jimmie, you are improving. Yes, I am doing you great good. I found your
mind an insipid dish and I have sprinkled it with salt and pepper. You
are right. Always decide in favor of the young, for the old have already
had their disappointments. Well, I'll go. Lift your paw. My horse can't
move out from under its weight."

"All right," said the giant, laughing and stepping back. "By the way,"
he added, "tell Tom to be sure and meet me at the landing at two o'clock
to-morrow. We are going down to New Orleans."

"What, alone? I ought to go along to take care of you. I could steer you
away from all the bad places and by this means you would naturally
stumble on the good ones. I'll see you when you get back."

At home the old man had lighted his fire and was listening to its
cheerful crackle when his visitors came, laughing. With a boisterous
shout Tom kicked the door open, and when the girl remonstrated with him,
he grabbed her and kissed her.

"That's all right," old Gid cried. "One of these days the penitentiary
doors will open for you without being kicked in. Ah, delightful to see
you, my dear," he said, bowing to the girl; "refreshing to see you,
although you come with a scamp. Sit down over there. I gad, you are a
bit of sunshine that has lost its way in the night."

About her head she had wound