Katy was so affected by this fearful picture of poor, dear Smith’s condition, that she got up and hurried out of the room to cry.

“What on airth’s the matter?” soliloquized Dave.  “Bashful little creeter, I ‘low.  Thought I wuz a-comin to the p’int, maybe.  Well, nex’ time’ll do.  Haw! haw!  Young things is cur’us now, to be shore.  Mout’s well be a gittin’ on, I reckon.  Gin her time to come round, I ’low.”

With such wooing, renewed from time to time, the clumsy and complacent Dave whiled away his days, and comforted himself that he had the persimmon-tree all to himself, as he expressed it.  Meanwhile, the notes of Westcott were fast undoing all that Albert had done to separate him from “the purty little girl.”

[Illustration:  “WHAT ON AIRTH’S THE MATTER?”]

Of course, when the right time came, he happened to meet Katy on the street, and to take off his hat and make a melancholy bow, the high-tragedy air of which confirmed Katy’s suspicions that he meant to commit suicide at the first opportunity.  Then he chanced to stop at the gate, and ask, in a tone sad enough to have been learned from the gatherers of cold victuals, if he might come in.  In three days more, he was fully restored to favor and to his wonted cheerfulness.  He danced, he sang, he chirruped, he rattled his keys, he was the Privileged Infant once more.  He urged Katy to marry him at once, but her heart was now rent by pity for Albert and by her eager anxiety lest he should do something desperate when he heard of her reconciliation.  She trembled every day at thought of what might happen when he should return.

“Goin’ to pre-empt in a few days, Katy.  Whisky Jim come plaguey near to gittin’ that claim.  He got Shamberson on his side, and if Shamberson’s brother-in-law hadn’t been removed from the Land Office before it was tried, he’d a got it.  I’m going to pre-empt and build the cutest little bird’s nest for you.

“If I was young and in my prime,
  I’d lead a different life,
I’d save my money, and buy me a farm,
  Take Dinah for my wife. 
Oh! carry me back—­

“Psha!  Dat dah ain’t de toon, bruddern.  Ahem!

“When you and I get married, love,
  How jolly it will be! 
We’ll keep house in a store-box, then,
  Just two feet wide by three! 
          Store-box! 
          Band-box! 
      All the same to me!

“And when we want our breakfast, love,
  We’ll nibble bread and chee—­
It’s good enough for you, love,
  And most too good for me! 
          White bread! 
          Brown bread! 
      All the same to me!

“Dog-on’d ef ’tain’t.  White bread’s good as brown bread.  One’s jest as good as the other, and a good deal better.  It’s all the same to me, and more so besides, and something to carry.  It’s all the same, only ’tain’t.  Ahem: 

“Jane and Sukey and July Ann—­
  Too brown, too slim, too stout! 
You needn’t smile on this ’ere man,
  Git out! git out! git out! 
    But the maiden fair
    With bonny brown hair—­
  Let all the rest git out!”—­