He untied the bundle and put the dress and finery in her lap.

“Well, I want to know!” she exclaimed, as she held it up to the candlelight.  “That must have cost a pretty penny.”

“I don’t care what it cost—­it ain’t half good enough—­not half,” said Samson.

As he sat down to his supper he said: 

“I saw that miserable slaver, Biggs, get off the boat with his big bay mare.  There was a darky following him with another horse.”

“Good land!” said Sarah.  “I hope he isn’t coming here.  Mrs. Onstot told me to-day that Bim Kelso has been getting letters from him.”

“She’s such an odd little critter and she’s got a mind of her own—­anybody could see that,” Samson reflected.  “She ought to be looked after purty careful.  Her parents are so taken up with shooting and fishing and books they kind o’ forget the girl.  I wish you’d go down there to-morrow and see what’s up.  Jack is away you know.”

“I will,” said Sarah.

It was nearly two o’clock when Samson, having fed and watered his horses, got into bed.  Yet he was up before daylight, next morning, and singing a hymn of praise as he kindled the fire and filled the tea kettle and lighted his candle lantern and went out to do his chores while Sarah, partly reconciled to her new disappointment, dressed and began the work of another day.  So they and Abe and Harry and others like them, each under the urge of his own ambition, spent their great strength in the building and defense of the republic and grew prematurely old.  Their work began and ended in darkness and often their days were doubled by the burdens of the night.  So in the reckoning of their time each year was more than one.

Sarah went down to the village in the afternoon of the next day.  When Samson came in from the fields to his supper she said: 

“Mr. Biggs is stopping at the tavern.  He brought a new silk dress and some beautiful linen to Mrs. Kelso.  He tells her that Bim has made a new man of him.  Claims he has quit drinking and gone to work.  He looks like a lord—­silver spurs and velvet riding coat and ruffled shirt and silk waistcoat.  A colored servant rode into the village with him on a beautiful brown horse, carrying big saddle-bags.  Bim and her mother are terribly excited.  He wants them to move to St. Louis and live on his big plantation in a house next to his—­rent free.”

Samson knew that Biggs was the type of man who weds Virtue for her dowry.

“A man’s judgment is needed there,” said he.  “It’s a pity Jack is gone.  Biggs will take that girl away with him sure as shooting if we don’t look out.”

“Oh, I don’t believe he’d do that,” said Sarah.  “I hope he has turned over a new leaf and become a gentleman.”

“We’ll see,” said Samson.

They saw and without much delay the background of his pretensions, for one day within the week he and Bim, the latter mounted on the beautiful brown horse, rode away and did not return.  Soon a letter came from Bim to her mother, mailed at Beardstown.  It told of their marriage in that place and said that they would be starting for St. Louis in a few hours on The Star of the North.  She begged the forgiveness of her parents and declared that she was very happy.