ed on Gabriel's account,"
remarked Mrs. Blasengame.

"Crushed!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders; "no, ma'am! not much, if any. She's
fightin' mad."

"I know well how she feels," said the pale, bright-eyed little woman.
"It is a pity the men can't have the same feeling."

"Why, honey, what good would it do?" the Colonel asked, somewhat
querulously.

"It would do no good; it would do harm--to some people."

"And yet," said the Colonel, turning to Mr. Sanders with a protesting
frown on his face, "when I want to show some fellow that I'm still on
top of the ground, or when Tomlin takes down his gun and goes after some
rascal, she makes such a racket that you'd think the world was coming to
an end."

"A racket! I make a racket? Why, Mr. Blasengame, I'm ashamed of you! the
idea!"

"Well, racket ain't the word, I reckon; but you look so sorry, honey,
that to me it's the same as making a racket. It takes all the grit out
of me when I know that you are sitting here, wondering what minute I'll
be brought home cut into jiblets, or shot full of holes."

Mrs. Blasengame laughed, as she rose from the table. She stood tiptoe to
pin a flower in her husband's button-hole.

"You've missed a good deal, Mr. Sanders," said the Colonel, stooping to
kiss his wife. "You don't know what a comfort it is to have a little bit
of a woman to boss you, and cuss you out with her eyes when you git on
the wrong track."

"Yes," said Mr. Sanders, "I allers feel like a widower when I see a man
reely in love wi' his wife. It's a sight that ain't as common as it used
to be. We'll go now, if you're ready, an' see the Major. I ain't got
much time to tarry."

"Oh, you want me to go too?" said the Colonel eagerly. "Well, I'm your
man; you can just count on me, no matter what scheme you've got on
hand."

They went to Major Perdue's, and were ushered in by Minervy Ann. "I'm
mighty glad you come," said she; "kaze 'taint been ten minnits sence
Marse Tomlin wuz talkin' 'bout gwine over dar whar you live at; an' he
ain't got no mo' business in de hot sun dan a rabbit is got in a blazin'
brushpile. Miss Vallie done tole 'im so, an' I done tole 'im so. He went
ter bed wid de headache, an' he got up wid it; an' what you call dat, ef
'taint bein' sick? But, sick er well, he'll be mighty glad ter see you."

Aunt Minervy Ann made haste to inform the Major that he had visitors. "I
tuck 'em in de settin'-room," she said, "kaze dat parlour look ez cold
ez a funer'l. It