ts of good argyment."

Sandy's superiority was overwhelming, but Birdie had borne with him
with amused patience until now. She had known him a long time as a
boarder, but never until now had she realized the blundering conceit
that was his. She felt that she had given him rope enough, and it was
time to bring him up with a jerk.

"Thank you kindly, sir," she mocked him, curtseying.

"You're welcome, ma'am," Sandy returned, with a clumsy bow, failing to
realize her change of attitude.

"If you guess I'm right for marryin', maybe you'll hand me my
diploma," she said, with a demure down-drooping of her eyelids.

She waited, and finally glanced up into his flushed face. Her sarcasm
had struck home at last, and without hesitation she went on
mercilessly--

"Say, if you ain't goin' to hand me a diploma, guess you can let me
get on with my sewin'. Havin' been a married man, maybe you'll
understand men-folk ain't a heap of use around when a woman's sewin'.
Guess they're handy ladlin' out most things, but I'd say a man ain't
no more use round the eye of a needle than a camel."

Sandy's dignity and temper were ruffled. It was inconceivable
that Birdie--or, as he mentally apostrophized her, "this blamed
hash-slinger"--should so flout him. How dared she? He was so
angry that words for once utterly failed him, and he moved towards
the door with gills as scarlet as any blustering turkey-cock. But
Birdie had no idea of sparing him, and hurled her final sarcasm
as she turned again to her cupboard.

"I'd hate to be one o' Zip's kids with you gettin' busy around me,"
she cried, chuckling in an infuriating manner.

It was too much for Sandy. He turned fiercely as he reached the door.

"You're 'bug,'" he declared roughly. "I tell you, Zip's kids ain't
nothin' to do with me--"

"Which, I'd say, was lucky for them," cried Birdie airily.

"An' I'd jest like to say that when a genelman gits around to do the
perlite by a no-account mutton-worrier, he figgers to be treat
right--"

Birdie turned on him with cold eyes.

"I'll sure be treatin' you right," she said, "when I tell you that
door don't need shuttin' after you. It's on the swing."

She did not wait to witness her guest's departure. She felt it would
not be graceful, under the circumstances. So, pushing her head into
the cupboard, she once more gathered up her work.

When the soft swish of the swing-door told her that Sandy's departure
had been taken, she emerged with