"Well, old girl, how'd you like to marry?" Agnes changed color a few times before she could decide whether to answer or not. In the meantime, patient and in no hurry, Bill grinned with pleasure at the ease with which he had started; showed tobacco where his teeth had been, and spat a pound of juice, with plenty of drippings trailing out the window by which she sat. It made considerable argument getting through the screen, but succeeded finally--most of it, the remainder, clung, hesitated, wavered, and finally giving up, dripped slowly to the ledge below.

"Dog-gone, myself," said Bill, getting up heavily from his chair, and going to the window and thumping it lightly, whereupon the hesitant amber, dashed in many directions about. Agnes had observed it all with calm disgust. Bill, however, not the least perturbed over his apparent breach of impropriety, became reseated, and resumed:

"Well?"

She turned her eyes slowly toward him, surveyed him coldly, and continued at her sewing.

Bill muttered something.

She regarded him again with cold disdain.

"Haw, haw!" he laughed loudly. "You don't pretend t' hear me, haw! haw!

Then I guess you're stuck on that nigger you got a hangin' round here."

"Will you go!" she cried, as she quickly jumped to her feet and swung open the door. She controlled herself with considerable effort.

"Oh, ho! So that's the way you treat a white man--and honor a d--n nigger!" And with that he dashed out and passed to where the senior worked away over his harness. Jack Stewart saw and heard Bill approaching without looking up. He greeted:

"Ah-ha, William. And how are you today?"

Bill was struck with a sudden inspiration. In his way he really liked Agnes, and it was all settled in his mind to wed her. He realized now that he had rather bungled matters, and thereupon decided to exercise a little more discretion. So, choking down the anger that was in him, and swallowing a bit of tobacco juice at the same time, he said to Stewart:

"Good morning! Ah, by the way, Jack, I'd like to marry Agnes." So saying, he was pleased with himself again, and spat tobacco juice more easily in the next squirt. Jack continued working at his harness. For the moment he did not appear to comprehend, but presently he raised his eyes with the old style glasses before them, and surveyed Bill slowly.

"You want to do what?" he said, uncomprehendingly.

"To marry Agnes," Bill repeated calmly. He paused, looked away, sucked his soft mouth clean of amber and spat it tricklingly at Jack's feet, and looked up and at Jack with a wondrous smile.

Now Jack Stewart was possessed with certain virtues. He did not smoke, chew, drink, swear nor shave. He was rather put out, but with considerable effort at self control he managed to say:

"Well, if that's the way you feel about it, why don't you take it up with the girl?" Bill hesitated at this point, sucked his mouth clear again of tobacco juice, cleared his throat, spat the juice, and, after a hasty glance toward the house, decided not to mention that he had spoken with Agnes. He replied:

"Well, I thought it best to speak to you, and if it's all right with you, it ought to be all right with the gal."

Jack Stewart drew up, and then tried to relax. He did not think so much of Bill; but he did think the world of Agnes and wanted her respected by everybody. Moreover, he did not like to hear her "galled." He turned to William; he regarded him keenly, and then in a voice and words that were English, but accent that was very much Scotch, the which we will not attempt to characterize, he said:

"You're a joke. Just a great, big joke." He paused briefly, and then continued: "I'd like to be patient with you; but honestly, with you it wouldn't pay. You are not worth it. And in so far as my girl--any girl is concerned, I cannot imagine how you could even expect them to be interested." He paused and looked away, too full up to go ahead. In the meantime he heard Bill:

"Is that so!"

"Is _it_ so!" cried Stewart with a touch of vehemence. "Gad! See yourself. See how you go! Don't you observe what's around you close enough to see that girls want some sedateness; they admire in some measure cleverness, clothes, and--well, manhood!"

"So I don't guess I have it?" retorted William, sneeringly.

"Oh, you bore me!" Jack returned disgustingly. He bent to his work in an attempt to forget it. And then he again heard from Bill:

"So that's the way yu' got it figgered out, eh!" He drew his mouth tight shut. He gave another soft suck that drew his skin close to his gums, and with his tongue, he cleared his mouth and spat tobacco, juice and all in a soft lump at Stewart's feet and said in unconcealed anger: "So that's the way you got me figgered out! And I want to say, now, that I don't think I want yer gal, anyhow. I'm a white man, I am. And what white man would want a gal that a nigger is allowed to hang aroun' and court!"

Jack Stewart was struck below the belt. He was fouled, and for a time everything went dark around him, he was so angry. He did not know that Jean Baptiste had saved him from losing his stock or being forced to sell them; he had never connected Baptiste and Agnes as being other than friends, and friends they had a right to be. But Jack Stewart _did_ regard Jean Baptiste as a gentleman and gentlemen he respected. His knockout therefore was brief. He soon recovered. He could not speak, he could not even stammer; but with a sudden twitch of the tug his hands held, he came away around with it, and the heavy leather took Bill fairly in the mouth, in the middle of the mouth. And then Jack got his voice, and ready for another swing; but not before Bill found something, too. It was his feet.

"You stinkin', low down, pup!" cried Stewart, falling over from the force of the swing he had missed. "You trash of the sand hills! You tobacco chewin', ragga-muffin!" Getting his balance, and turning after William madly, he resumed: "You ornery, nasty, filthy, houn'! If I get my han's on you, I swear t' God I'll kill you."

But Bill Prescott now held the advantage. He was younger, and more fleet of foot; so therefore out ran Jack, who was left before he reached the gate, far to the rear, and Bill gained his side of the wide road with a safe lead. Jack finally came to a stop before getting off the premises with his blood boiling with such heat that he drew his hat off and beat himself with it. In the meantime, Agnes, who had witnessed the controversy from the gate, ventured out to where her father stood and taking him gently by the arm, she led him inside.

"My blood's up, my blood's up!" Jack kept crying and repeating. "That stinkin', triflin' peace a nothin', has been gittin' smart. Tryin' to low rate me; tryin' to low rate my girl. Insultin' Jean Baptiste! Dang him, dang him!"

"Father, father!" cried Agnes soothingly.

"Did you hear'm! Did you hear'm! Why, the low down, good for nothin', I'm a good mind to go cross the road and skin him alive!"

"Father, father!" begged Agnes.

"Did you hear what he said," insisted the infuriated senior.

"Yes, father," she confessed. "I heard him."

"You did! 'N that's worse!" Whereupon he tore loose and threw up his arms in an angered gesture.

"Now, papa," Agnes argued kindly. "I heard him, and what he said to you.

He was in here and insul--spoke to me before he went out there.... I understand all about it.... So you must simply be calm--and forget it.

That's all...."

"I don't care so much for myself, but that he should speak about you and Baptiste! I just wish Baptiste could have heard him and just beat the gosh danged manure right out of him."

"Please be quiet, papa. Forget Bill Prescott and what he has tried to insinuate.... We understand _him_ and what he _is_, and we understand Mr. Baptiste--and what _he is_, so let us just think of other things."

"Yes, Aggie, I suppose you're right. You always seem to be right. And I will try to forget it; but I'll say this much: If that ornery, lazy cuss ever crosses this road to my place again I'll thresh him within an inch of his life!"

"You've agreed to forget it, father...."

"I agree again; but it's outrageous that he should say what he did about Jean Baptiste, now isn't it?"

"It is, father," she admitted with downcast eyes.

"Of course it is. Never was there more of a gentleman in the world than Jean Baptiste."

"Mr. Baptiste is a real gentleman," acknowledged Agnes again.

"There never was, and he knows it, the pup!"

Agnes was strangely silent, which Jack, in his excitement overlooked.

"And even if he should like my girl--"

"Father!"

"Well?"

"Oh, please hush!"