"Yes, sir, that's jest what I wuz a tellin' the boys," went on Mr.

Doggett, and inserting his thumb and finger in his inside breast pocket, he pulled out a dark object, the jaw tooth of a horse, and laid it on his host's knee. It had belonged to old Powhatan, a racer buried in the field many years before.

"Here's somethin' I found out in the terbaccer t'other day, I fetched to show you. I thought maybe hit belonged to one o' them creeters that lived before the flood. I showed hit to Lisle Castle, and he said hit wuz a mammon's tooth. I'd a tuck hit to Jedge Robbins,--he has a whole room full o' sech, ef he hadn't 'a' died."

"Who'd they app'int Jedge fer his successor?" inquired Mr. James.

"Hain't you heerd?" Mr. Doggett seemed surprised: "they app'inted old man Perry. Reckon they thought they'd drap a plum to Al's pap, considerin' Al wuz so nigh a gittin' elected a.s.sessor last fall--but not quite!"

"And jest defeated by one vote," commented Mr. James.

"Yes, sir," Mr. Doggett laughed, "and that vote wuz Dad's."

"How come him to go ag'in Al? I 'lowed Dad wuz a Dimocrat."

"He is, yes, sir, he is, but you know how Dad is. He jest can't possible fergit an injury," confided Mr. Doggett.

"The old man, him and Dock, they wuz a fishin' in old man Perry's pond along two year ago, and they had ketched two as fine New Lights as ever you seed, and sir, along comes Al Perry, that big-headed, gold-toothed Al Perry (teeth ever' one plated over 'tel his mouth's a plumb gold mine) and says: 'Gran'dad, throw them fish back: I want to stock the pond with 'em!'

"'Why, Al,' Dad says, 'they've been out so long they'll die anyway ef I'd throw 'em back, but I'll give you half of 'em to eat!'

"'No,' Al says, 'you've got to throw 'em back!' And, don't you know Al made him throw 'em back! Why, they wuz might' night' the length o' my arm!

"That Al, he's a tough one. Dad turned to him when he heerd them fish floppin' back 'mong them waterlilies, and says: 'Jest you wait, Al, 'tel my time comes. I'll stamp you yit fer this!' And he sh.o.r.e did. Ever' one of us voted fer Al fer a.s.sessor but Dad. He voted fer Fant ag'in Al.

Yes, sir, Al wuz defeated by one vote, and that one wuz _Dad's_.

"I told Dad I wouldn't 'a' done hit ef I'd 'a' been him, and I dunno as. .h.i.t done him any good. Al, he's jest schemy and smart and he couldn't holp that streak o' stinginess--tuck after his pap. And a dollar looks as big as a cart-wheel to him. You know old man Perry, don't you, Mr.

James?"

"I thenk I've seed him," answered Mr. James.

"Leetle low old feller--looks like he's walkin' 'round after a set o'

sandy whiskers. His whiskers are so big he looks like he's got a bushel basket stuffed with cowhairs tied to his head! They used to tell a tale on him about a couple o' mice makin' a nest in his beard, hit wuz so thick, and n.o.body wouldn't 'a' never knowed they wuz in thar, ef they hadn't 'a' heerd 'em a squealin'!

"Old man Perry, and the boys got up a barbercue before the election to sorter holp Al along on the votes. Ever'body wuz to bring provisions, and would you b'lieve hit, old man Perry, afraid o' losin' a copper, brought a pig ham, and a broken-legged drake, and him ownin' half the county!

"I used to hear the toll-gate keepers on the pikes a grumblin' about him a allus goin' through the gates free, on account of allus carryin' bills too big fer the keepers to change. He used to go through ever' gate fer miles around in any direction and fla'nt his twenty dollar bills--but they all got up to him finally, and got to keepin' money at the gates jest fer him. I tell you, they busted them twenty doller bills, yes, sir, they busted 'em!

"Did ever you notice Mr. Jeemes," Mr. Doggett went on meditatively, "hit's among the rich folks you find them o' the quairest ways? I've seed a sight o' curi's rich people in my time, yes, sir. When I lived in Bourbon, I seed somethin' done onct a body wouldn't thenk o' seein' in any fambly, much less a rich one.

"Me and Captain Theodore Murray wuz a drivin' some hogs to town, and on the way we pa.s.sed by John Sutherland's, his brother-in-law's place. Rich John, they called him over thar whar he lived, hit looked like a little town, fer the n.i.g.g.e.r cabins, and granaries, and stock barns, and all sech. The County road hit run right along by one his barns. Old John, he wuz out watchin' one the hired men diggin' a hole right on the slope between the barn and the road. Captain Theodore, he says: 'What you fixin' to bury, John, turnips? Sorter early, hain't hit?' Hit wuz in September.

"'John,' he says: 'No, we're a fixin' to bury Emily's baby!' Hit wuz the week-old child o' his daughter that run off and married a soldier in the standin' army. He wuz stationed away off sommers when hit died.

"Captain Theodore, he rared back in his stirrups and he called out like he wuz orderin' a company o' soldiers.

"'Fill up that hole!' he says. 'Ef you haven't got a decent place to bury that child, I'll buy a place, and give hit to you!' And he rid on to town, and bought a lot in the cimetry. And, ef you'll b'lieve hit, Mr. Jeemes, next day when they started to town to take the child to hit's buryin'-place, old rich John tied the little coffin on behind a buggy, and started to town at a brisk trot! And thar wuzn't a mourner a follerin'. When he got along as fur as the store half-way to town, the store-keeper thar hollered at him and told him his box wuz a slippin'

off, and ast him what he had in hit. I tell you, Mr. James, he wuz plumb ashamed o' hollerin' so rough and keerless when he found out hit wuz Mis' Emily's baby, and he come out and tied hit on good, and then John cut up the horse and driv' on faster'n ever! Now would you 'a' thought that o' rich people?"

Mr. James' comments and his good-humor encouraged Mr. Doggett toward the subject of most interest to him at that moment.

"I tell you, Mr. Jeemes," he tendered, "a poor man don't have nigh the temptations o' the rich fellers, and he can't afford so handy to be odd and quair. As I wuz a tellin' Mr. Lindsay--"

Mr. James put up an interruptive hand. "Don't mention that thar Lindsay to me!" he growled. "He hain't wuth mentionin'! Though he let on to have the reputation of an angel fer a mighty long time, when he come about me, he made out to lower that reputation."

"He never done nothin' wrong, did he, Mr. James?" placated Mr. Doggett.

"Persuadin' a woman away from her duty to them as is her best friends, to want to marry him, he's done _that_. All the winter he'd set around the fire clost to Lucy Ann, a puttin' his hands over his mouth, a talkin'; I couldn't hear a word, bein' deefer'n common last winter, but I know now he wuz a courtin'--a talkin' love right onder my nose!"

Mr. Doggett smiled conciliatingly. "Miss Lucy's bein' a nice woman, you couldn't blame him, no, sir! And whar wuz the harm, Mr. Jeemes? Mr.

Lindsay--he's a nice man. They hain't a honester man in the world'n him, Mr. Jeemes. Ef he hain't got but a dollar in the world, and owes. .h.i.t to you, you'll git hit. They hain't nigh enough o' them kind o' men in the world. Whar's the harm o' him a talkin' pleasant to Miss Lucy?"

"Whar's the harm!" fumed the old man. "Persuadin' Lucy to want to marry a weakly man sixty-five year old and hain't saved up a cent, as fer as anybody knows!"

"He hain't more'n fifty, Mr. Jeemes," demurred Mr. Doggett gently, "and he sh.o.r.e has got some money laid up. He told me hisse'f he had two thousand dollers in the Owensboro bank. He showed me the bank book, yes, sir. Hit wuz a paid up inshorance policy, er some sich, he'd tuck out, and put thar along in the winter."

"Well, I'll never believe hit 'til I see hit," said the old man, contrarily: "and I don't put no confidence in his ability to make a livin'."

"Yes, sir," broke in Mr. Doggett, "but he's a fine terbaccer man, jest can't be beat, and the workin'est feller I ever seed! He's aimin' to put in a crop o' terbaccer next year."

"I keer nothin' fer his aims," declared Mr. James, impatiently: "Lucy sha'nt fling herse'f away on a poor man, ef I can keep her from hit!

What could she promise herse'f a weddin' poverty?"

"Poverty is mighty mean company, yes, sir, but maybe ef Mr. Lindsay had riches he'd have ondesirable qualities along with 'em, yes, sir.

Kentucky men hain't like Kentucky horses. No, sir; you jest can't possible git holt o' a man with all the good qualities combined, fer men don't have more'n half a dozen good qualities, none o' 'em! No, sir!"

While Mr. Doggett on the back porch entertained Mr. James, Dock and Dunaway, at the pear tree, and under the grape arbor, refreshed themselves: and Mr. Lindsay, in the shadow of the goldenrods outside the farthest corner of the orchard, sat on the turf, with one hand holding tight a small one buried in the gra.s.s, and with the eloquence of happiness, explained away the weary weeks of parting, of misunderstanding and misery--the lost heaven of the year.

"Jest go through the back gate o' the garden, Miss Lucy," Dock had besought her in the kitchen, "and keep a goin' along the fence 'tel you come to the far corner o' the orchid, and you'll find somethin' fer you thar. I reckon you don't keer ef me and my cousin gits a pear er two to take to Jim's little Katie, do you Miss Lucy?"

Miss Lucy did not care. "I wonder why he didn't send me a letter by Dock, instead of puttin' hit out there?" she murmured as she pa.s.sed slowly along the wall, searching the ground. Mr. Lindsay watched her coming.

"Lucy, what have they done to you?" he cried out sharply, and a mighty wave of pitying love surged over him and sent him toward her with outstretched arms.

The bees that, regardless of Sunday, gathered sweets from the pale blue aster blooms beside the goldenrods, went back to their hive many times: Miss Nancy's chances for filling her jars with sweet pickled pears steadily lessened, and the soft murmur of voices that came from the goldenrod shaded corner went on and on.

"You'll not fail me then, Lucy," the man said at last: "I can't have you worried an hour longer than--"

"They--they won't let me, Nathan," said Miss Lucy. "You'd just better go away and forget me! I'm afraid--I'm afraid--"

At this moment Dunaway raced past them, making quick time in the direction of Jim Doggett's, but Dock paused in his flight.

"She's a comin'!" he panted, jerking his thumb in the direction of the road, "Miss Nancy! I seed her buggy out'n the top o' the pear tree, and she's right at the yard!"

Miss Lucy started up in dismay, a chalky whiteness spreading over her face. Mr. Lindsay took one of her trembling hands.

"Remember!" he said meaningly.