rat! I'll
not spare him now! I'll spread the news far and wide; the very birds
in the trees shall sing it, the story of his wife's shame! I'll lower
that cursed pride of his before another month is over his head, and
I'll have his handsome wife on her knees to me, as sure as my name's
Parmalee! He knocked me down, and he beat me to a jelly, did he? and
he ordered me out of his house; and he'll shoot me like a mad dog, will
he? But I'll be even with him; I'll fix him off! I'll make him repent
the day he ever lifted his hand to G. W. Parmalee!"

"So you shall. I like to hear you talk like that. You're a glorious
fellow, George, and Sybilla will help you; for, listen"--she came close
and hissed the words in a venomous whisper--"I hate Sir Everard
Kingsland and all his race, and I hate his upstart wife, with her high
and mighty airs, and I would see them both dead at my feet with all the
pleasure in life!"

"You get out!" rejoined Mr. Parmalee, recoiling and clapping his hand
to his ear. "I told you before, Sybilla, not to whistle in a fellow's
ear like that. It goes through a chap like cold steel. As to your
hating them, I believe in my soul you hate most people; and women like
you, with big, flashing black eyes, are apt to be uncommon good haters,
too. But what have they done to you? I always took 'em to be good
friends to you, my girl."

"You have read the fable, Mr. Parmalee, of the man who found the frozen
adder, and who warmed and cherished it in his bosom, until he restored
it to life? Well, Sir Everard found me, homeless, friendless,
penniless, and he took me with him, and fed me, clothed me, protected
me, and treated me like a sister. The adder in the fable stung its
preserver to death. I, Mr. Parmalee, if you ever feel inclined to
poison Sir Everard, will mix the potion and hold the bowl, and watch
his death-throes!"

"Go along with you!" said the American, beginning to collect his traps.
"You're a bad one, you are. I don't like such lingo--I don't, by
George! I never took you for an angel, but I vow I didn't think you
were the cantankerous little toad you are! I don't set up to be a
saint myself, and if a man knocks me down and pummels my innards out
for nothin', I calculate to fix his flint, if I can; but you--shoo!
you're a little devil on airth, and that's my opinion of you."

"With such a complimentary opinion of me, then, Mr. Parmalee, I presume
our late partnership is dissolved?"