“Mr. Sawney,” said the widow Ferret, beaming on him with one of her sudden, precise, pickled smiles, “Mr. Sawney, I’m delighted to hear that you made a brave stand against Romanism.  It is the bane of this country.  I respect you for the stand you made.  It shows the influence of schripcheral training by a praying mother, I’ve no doubt, Mr. Sawney.”

Dave was flattered and annoyed at this mention, and he looked at little Katy, but she didn’t seem to feel any interest in the matter, and so he took heart.

“I felt it my dooty, Mrs. Ferret, indeed I did.”

“I respect you for it, Mr. Sawney.”

“For what?” said Albert irascibly.  “For selling himself into a mercenary marriage, and then higgling on a point of religious prejudice?”

Mrs. Ferret now focused her round eyes at Mr. Charlton, smiled her deprecating smile, and replied:  “I do think, Mr. Charlton, that in this day of lax views on one side and priestcraft on the other, I respect a man who thinks enough of ee-vangelical truth to make a stand against any enemy of the holy religion of—­”

“Well,” said Charlton rudely, “I must say that I respect Perritaut’s prejudices just as much as I do Dave’s.  Both of them were engaged in a contemptible transaction, and both of them showed an utter lack of conscience, except in matters of opinion.  Religion is—­”

[Illustration:  MRS. FERRET]

But the company did not get the benefit of Mr. Albert’s views on the subject of religion, for at that moment entered Mr. Smith Westcott.

“How do, Katy?  Lookin’ solemn, eh?  How do, Brother Albert?  Mrs. Ferret, how do?  Ho! ho!  Dave, is this you?  I congratulate you on your escape from the savages.  Scalp all sound, eh?  Didn’ lose your back-hair?  By George! he! he! he!” And he began to show symptoms of dancing, as he sang: 

“John Brown, he had a little Injun;
John Brown, he had a little Injun;
Dave Sawney had a little Injun;
  One little Injun gal!

“Yah! yah!  Well, well, Mr. Shawnee, glad to see you back.”

“Looky hyer.  Mister Wes’cott,” said Dave, growing red, “you’re a-makin’ a little too free.”

“Oh! the Shawnee chief shouldn’ git mad.  He! he! by George! wouldn’ git mad fer ten thousand dollars.  I wouldn’, by George! you know! he! he!  Ef I was worth ten thousand dollars live weight, bide and tallow throw’d in, I would—­”

“See here, mister,” said Dave, rising, “maybe, you’d like to walk out to some retired place, and hev your hide thrashed tell ‘twouldn’ hold shucks?  Eh?”

“I beg pardon,” said Westcott, a little frightened, “didn’ mean no harm, you know, Mr. Sawney.  All’s fair in war, especially when it’s a war for the fair.  Sort of warfare, you know.  By George! he! he!  Shake hands, let’s be friends, Dave.  Don’ mind my joking—­nobody minds me.  I’m the privileged infant, you know, he! he!  A’n’t I, Mr. Charlton?”

“You’re infant enough, I’m sure,” said Albert, “and whether you are privileged or not, you certainly take liberties that almost any other man would get knocked down for.”