“Oh! well, don’t let’s be cross.  Spoils our faces and voices, Mr. Charlton, to be cross.  For my part, I’m the laughin’ philosopher—­the giggling philosopher, by George! he! he!  Come Katy, let’s walk.”

Katy was glad enough to get her lover away fro her brother.  She hated quarreling, and didn’t see why people couldn’t be peaceable.  And so she took Mr. Westcott’s arm, and they walked out, that gentleman stopping to strike a match and light his cigar at the door, and calling back, “Dood by, all, dood by!  Adieu, Monsieur Sawney, au revoir!” Before he had passed out of the gate he was singing lustily: 

“Ten little, nine little, eight little Injun;
Seven little, six little, five little Injun;
Four, little, three little, two little Injun;
One little Injun girl!

“He! he!  By George!  Best joke, for the time of the year, I ever heard.”

“I think,” said Mrs. Ferret, after Katy and her lover had gone—­she spoke rapidly by jerks, with dashes between—­“I think, Mr. Sawney—­that you are worthy of commendation—­I do, indeed—­for your praiseworthy stand—­against Romanism.  I don’t know what will become of our liberties—­if the priests ever get control—­of this country.”

Sawney tried to talk, but was so annoyed by the quick effrontery with which Westcott had carried the day that he could not say anything quite to his own satisfaction.  At last Dave rose to go, and said he had thought maybe he mout git a chance to explain things to Miss Charlton ef Mr. Westcott hadn’t gone off with her.  But he’d come agin.  He wanted to know ef Albert thought her feelin’s was hurt by what he’d done in offerin to make a cawntrack with Perritaut.  And Albert assured him he didn’t think they were in the least.  He had never heard Katy mention the matter, except to laugh about it.

At the gate Mr. Sawney met the bland, gentlemanly Plausaby, Esq., who took him by the hand soothingly, and spoke of his services in the late election matter with the highest appreciation.

Dave asked the squire what he thought of the chance of his succeeding with Miss Charlton.  He recited to Plausaby his early advantages.  “You know, Squire, I was raised rich, cradled in the lap of luxury.  Ef I ha’n’t got much book-stuffin’ in my head, ‘ta’n’t fer want of schoolin’.  I never larnt much, but then I had plenty of edication; I went to school every winter hand-runnin’ tell I was twenty-two, and went to singin’ every Sunday arternoon.  ’Ta’n’t like as ef I’d been brought up poar, weth no chance to larn.  I’ve had the schoolin’ anyway, and it’s all the same.  An’ I’ve got a good claim, half timber, and runnin’ water onter it, and twenty acre of medder.  I s’pose mebbe she don’t like my going’ arter that air Frenchman’s gal.  But I didn’t mean no ’fense, you know—­ten thousand in yaller gold’s a nice thing to a feller like me what’s been raised rich, and’s kinder used to havin’ and not much used to gittin’.