“Why,” replied Mrs. Slogan, with undisguised satisfaction in her tone, “Mis’ Simpkins says Westerfelt is goin’ with Ab Lithicum’s daughter Lizzie.”

“Well,” said Slogan, with a short, gurgling laugh, “what’s wrong with that?  A feller as well fixed as Westerfelt is ort to be allowed to look around a little, as folks say in town when they are a-tradin’.  Lord, sometimes I lie awake at night thinkin’ what a good time I mought ‘a’ had an’ what I mought ‘a’ run across ef I hadn’t been in sech a blamed fool hurry!  Lawsy me, I seed a deef an’ dumb woman in town t’other day, and, for a wonder, she wasn’t married, nur never had been!  I jest looked at that woman an’ my mouth fairly watered.”

“Yo’re a born fool,” snorted Mrs. Slogan.

“What’s that got to do with John Wester—­”

“Sh—­” broke in Mrs. Dawson.  “I heer Sally a-comin’.”

“But I want ’er to heer me,” cried the woman appealed to, just as the subject of the conversation entered the room from the passage which connected the two parts of the house.  “It’ll do ’er good, I hope, to know folks think she has made sech a goose of ’erse’f.”

“What have I done now, Aunt Clarissa?” sighed the frail-looking girl, as she took off her sun-bonnet and stood in the centre of the room, holding a bunch of wild flowers and delicate maiden-hair fern leaves in her hand.

“Why, John Westerfelt has done you exactly as he has many a other gal,” was the bolt the woman hurled.  “He’s settin’ up to Lizzie Lithicum like a house afire.  I don’t know but I’m glad of it, too, fer I’ve told you time an’ time agin that he didn’t care a hill o’ beans fer no gal, but was out o’ sight out o’ mind with one as soon as another un struck his fancy.”

Sally became deathly pale as she turned to the bed in one of the corners of the room and laid her flowers down.  She was silent for several minutes.  All the others were watching her.  Even her mother seemed to have resigned her to the rude method of awakening which suited her sister’s heartless mood.  At first it looked as if Sally were going to ignore the thrust, but they soon discovered their mistake, for she suddenly turned upon them with a look on her rigid face they had never seen there before.  It was as if youth had gone from it, leaving only its ashes.

“I don’t believe one word of it,” she said, firmly.  “I don’t believe it.  I wouldn’t believe it was anything but your mean meddling if you swore it.”

“Did you ever!” gasped Mrs. Slogan; “after all the advice I’ve give the foolish girl!”

“Well, I reckon that’s beca’se you don’t want to believe it, Sally,” said Slogan, without any intention of abetting his wife.  “I don’t want to take sides in yore disputes, but Westerfelt certainly is settin’ square up to Ab’s daughter.  I seed ’em takin’ a ride in his new hug-me-tight buggy yesterday.  She’s been off to Cartersville, you know, an’ has come back with dead loads o’ finery.