“Sally Ruth,” said the major, laying his hand upon his heart and trying desperately to focus her with an eye that would waver in spite of him, “Sally Ruth, somebody’s got to do something for you, and it might as well be me.  My God, Sally Ruth, you’re settin’ like clabber! It’s a shame; it’s a cryin’ shame, for you’re a fine woman.  I don’t mean to scare or flutter you, Sally Ruth,—­no gentleman ought to scare or flutter a lady—­but I’m offerin’ you my hand and heart; here’s my bosom for you to lean on.”

“That Savannah brew is worse even than I thought—­it’s run the man stark crazy,” said Miss Sally Ruth, viewing him with growing concern.

“Me crazy!  Why, I’m askin’ you,” said the major with awful dignity, “I’m askin’ you to marry me!”

“Marry you?  Marry fiddlesticks!  Shucks!” said the lady.

“You won’t?” Amazement made him sag down in his chair.  He stared at her owl-like.  “Woman,” said he solemnly, “when I see my duty I try to do it.  But I warn you—­it’s your last chance.”

“I hope,” said Miss Sally Ruth tartly, “that it’s my last chance to make a born fool of myself.  Why, you old gasbag, if I had to stay in the same house with you I’d be tempted to stick a darning needle in you to hear you explode!  Appleby, I’m like that woman that had a chimney that smoked, a dog that growled, a parrot that swore, and a cat that stayed out nights; she didn’t need a man—­and no more do I.”

“Sally Ruth,” said the major feelingly, “when I came here this mawnin’ it wasn’t for my own good—­it was for yours.  And to think this is all the thanks I get for bein’ willin’ to sacrifice myself!  My God!  The ingratitude of women!”

He looked at Miss Sally Ruth, and Miss Sally Ruth looked at him.  And then suddenly, without a moment’s warning, Miss Sally Ruth rose, and took Major Appleby Cartwright, who on a time had charged Yankee guns and hadn’t been scared wu’th a damn, by the ear.  She tugged, and the major rose, as one pulled upward by his bootstraps.

“Ouch!  Turn loose!  I take it back!  The devil!  It wasn’t intended for any mortal man to marry you—­Sally Ruth, I wouldn’t marry you now for forty billion dollars and a mule!  Turn loose, you hussy!  Turn loose!” screeched the major.

Unheeding his anguished protests, which brought Judge Hammond Mayne on the run, thinking somebody was being murdered, Miss Sally Ruth marched her suitor out of her house and led him to her front gate.  Here she paused, jaws firmly set, eyes glittering, and, as with hooks of steel, took firm hold upon the gallant major’s other ear.  Then she shook him; his big crimson countenance, resembling a huge overripe tomato, waggled deliriously to and fro.

“I was born”—­shake—­“an old maid,”—­shake, shake, shake—­“I have lived—­by the grace of God”—­shake, shake, shake—­“an old maid, and I expect”—­shake—­“to die an old maid!  I don’t propose to have”—­shake—­“an old windbag offering me his blubbery old bosom”—­shake, shake, SHAKE—­“at this time of my life!—­and don’t you forget it, Appleby Cartwright! THERE! You go back home”—­shake, shake, shake—­“and sober up, you old gander, you!”