oman
gal. Sometimes she's one and sometimes t'other. And then there's he. Why
didn't he marry and settle before he took a house to himself? And in the
two Sundays I've been here, nather of thim's been to church. If they
knowed what was becomin' to thim, they'd behave like Christians, if they
are heretics."

Mike sat at a little table in the corner of the kitchen with his back to
Molly, eating his supper. He had enough of the Southern negro in him to
make him dislike to eat with white people or to turn his face toward
anybody while partaking of his meals. But he also had enough of a son of
Erin in him to make him willing to talk whenever he had a chance. Turning
his head a little, he asked, "Now look a here, Molly; if a man's a
heretic, how can he be a Christian?"

"There's two kinds of heretics," said Molly, filling her great tea-cup
for the fourth time, and holding the teapot so that the last drop of the
strong decoction should trickle into the cup; "Christian heretics and
haythen heretics. You're one of the last koind yoursilf, Mike, for you
never go nigh a church, except to whitewash the walls of it. And you'll
never git no benefit to your own sowl, from Phoebe's boardin' the
minister, nather. Take my word for that, Mike."

Mike allowed himself a sort of froggy laugh. "There's nobody gets no good
out of that, but him," said he; "but you've got it crooked about their
not goin' to church. They did go reg'lar at fust, but the gig's at the
wheelwright's gettin' new shaf's."

"Gig, indeed!" ejaculated Molly. "No kirridge, but an auld gig! There's
not much quality about thim two. I wouldn't be here working for the likes
o' thim, if it was not for me wish to oblige Miss Panney, poor old woman
as she's gittin' to be."

Mike shrewdly believed that it was due to Miss Panney's knowledge of
some of Molly's misdeeds, and not to any desire to please the old lady,
that the commands of the latter were law to the Irishwoman, but he would
not say so.

"Kerridge or no kerridge," said he, "they're good 'nough quality for me,
and I reckon I knows what quality is. They hain't got much money, that's
sure, but there's lots of quality that ain't got money; and he's got
sense, and that's better than money. When he fust come here, I jes' goes
to him, and ses I, 'How's you goin' to run this farm, sir,--ramshackle or
reg'lar?' He looked at me kinder bothered, and then I 'splained. 'Well,'
said he, 'reg'lar will cost more money than I've g