“They crop up powerful thick in Kings, son, but I’ve found ’em when I looked sharp in Leviticus.”

“If you are goin’ to talk free, men, you can go to yo’ own homes to do it,” remarked Betsey, who was accustomed to appear at unexpected moments in order to impress them with the necessity of earning their supper.  “This ain’t no place for loose speakin’,” she added, solemnly eyeing young Adam, who, having a weak memory, was striving to fix the names of Kings and Leviticus in his mind by repeating them slowly to himself.

“Axin’ yo’ pardon, Mrs. Bottom, we didn’t know a lady was in hearin’ or we’d never have made so bold,” said old Adam.  “Stop workin’ yo’ lips, son, an’ hand Mrs. Bottom a cheer.”

“What’s all this talk anyway about Molly Merryweather an’ Mr. Jonathan?” she demanded.  “Abel, have you heard anything about it?”

The men glanced at each other with uneasy eyes, while they worked nervously at the shucking, for the question had been in the air from the moment of Abel’s entrance, though none of them had been bold enough to speak it aloud.  And now a woman, with characteristic feminine recklessness, had uttered the thought which had been revolving in each mind for ten minutes—­yet nothing had happened!

Old Adam, pausing for the first time in his work, glanced with ungrudging respect at the short, lumpy figure in the black calico dress.  Her face was still comely, and there was the mild mulishness in her expression that is seen in the countenances of many amiable yet obstinate persons.

“No, I haven’t heard,” replied Abel, and he added a moment later, “What do they say?”

“Well, Mr. Halloween had it from a man in Applegate who had it from a man in Petersburg who had it from a man in Richmond.”

“Had what?”

“That Mr. Jonathan had been waitin’ on her steady for some months, an’ ‘twas mo’ likely than not to end in marriage.  She’s a good girl, is Molly.  I ain’t got no use for a woman that don’t stand up for her sex in the face of men.”

“True, true,” admitted her hearers solemnly, one after another, for none among them had ever dared to defy the source of so many benefactions.

“Thar’re some that thinks morals ain’t meant for any but women,” she pursued, “but I ain’t one of ’em, as William Ming can testify, that holds to that view.  Viciousness is viciousness whether it be male or female, and Mr. Mullen himself in the pulpit couldn’t convince me that it don’t take two to make an impropriety.”

“True, true,” they repeated, belying themselves under coercion in the accents of the chorus in a Greek drama. “’Tis true, ma’am, as you speak it.”

“Thar were some mean enough to side against the po’ innocent from the hour of her birth,” she continued oracularly, while she looked severely at Solomon, who nodded in response, “an’ these same folks have been preachin’ over her an’ pintin’ at her ever sence she larned to crawl out of the cradle.  But thar never was a kinder heart or a quicker hand in trouble than Molly’s, an’ if she did play fast and loose with the men, was it any worse, I’d like to know, than they deserve?”