“Jes’ so.  Now look here,” drawing from his pocket a paper.  “Itom one.  Twenty-eight dinners at half a dollar makes fourteen dollars, don’t it?  Jes’ so.  Twenty-five breakfasts at a quarter makes six an’ a quarter, which make dinners an’ breakfasts twenty an’ a quarter.  Foller me up, as I go up, Pink.  Twenty-five suppers at a quarter makes six an’ a quarter, an’ which them added to the twenty an’ a quarter makes them twenty-six an’ a half.  Foller, Pink, an’ if you ketch me in any mistakes in the kyarin’ an’ addin’, p’int it out.  Twenty-two an’ a half beds—­an’ I say half, Pink, because you ’member one night when them A’gusty lawyers got here ’bout midnight on their way to co’t, rather’n have you too bad cramped, I ris to make way for two of ’em; yit as I had one good nap, I didn’t think I ought to put that down but for half.  Them makes five dollars half an’ seb’n pence, an’ which kyar’d on to the t’other twenty-six an’ a half, fetches the whole cabool to jes’ thirty-two dollars an’ seb’n pence.  But I made up my mind I’d fling out that seb’n pence, an’ jes’ call it a dollar even money, an’ which here’s the solid silver.”

In spite of the rapidity with which this enumeration of counter-charges was made, Mr. Fluker commenced perspiring at the first item, and when the balance was announced his face was covered with huge drops.

It was at this juncture that Mrs. Fluker, who, well knowing her husband’s unfamiliarity with complicated accounts, had felt her duty to be listening near the bar-room door, left, and quickly afterwards appeared before Marann and Sim as I have represented.

“You think Matt Pike ain’t tryin’ to settle with your pa with a dollar?  I’m goin’ to make him keep his dollar, an’ I’m goin’ to give him somethin’ to go ’long with it.”

“The good Lord have mercy upon us!” exclaimed Marann, springing up and catching hold of her mother’s skirts, as she began her advance towards the bar-room.  “Oh, ma! for the Lord’s sake!—­Sim, Sim, Sim, if you care anything for me in this wide world, don’t let ma go into that room!”

“Missis Fluker,” said Sim, rising instantly, “wait jest two minutes till I see Mr. Pike on some pressin’ business; I won’t keep you over two minutes a-waitin’.”

He took her, set her down in a chair trembling, looked at her a moment as she began to weep, then, going out and closing the door, strode rapidly to the bar-room.

“Let me help you settle your board-bill, Mr. Pike, by payin’ you a little one I owe you.”

Doubling his fist, he struck out with a blow that felled the deputy to the floor.  Then catching him by his heels, he dragged him out of the house into the street.  Lifting his foot above his face, he said: 

“You stir till I tell you, an’ I’ll stomp your nose down even with the balance of your mean face.  ’Tain’t exactly my business how you cheated Mr. Fluker, though, ’pon my soul, I never knowed a trifliner, lowdowner trick.  But I owed you myself for your talkin’ ’bout and your lyin’ ‘bout me, and now I’ve paid you; an’ ef you only knowed it, I’ve saved you from a gig-whippin’.  Now you may git up.”