se. It can't cost much. I will see Grace
about it."

"Thank you, James." On no account would she now have done this herself.
She was out of touch for the time with the whole business of politics,
and to have indulged her usual gentle desire to help others would have
implied obligation on the part of the Baptist to accept her wish that he
should vote and use his influence for Buchanan. Now the thing would be
done without her aid. In time her desire to see the Democrats win in the
interest of her dear South would revive, but at present what with Grey
and the threat of the practical application of the Fugitive-Slave Act and
her husband's disgust, she was disposed to let politics alone.

Presently, as they walked on, Peter Lamb stopped them. "I'd like to speak
to you for a moment, Mr. Penhallow." Mrs. Penhallow walked on.

"What is it?" said the Squire.

"I'm all right now--I'll never drink again. I want some work--and
mother's sick."

"We will see to her, but you get no more work from me."

"Why, what's the matter, sir?"

"Matter! You might ask Josiah if he were here. You know well enough what
you did--and now I am done with you."

"So help me God, I never--"

"Oh! get out of my way. You are a miserable, lying, ungrateful man, and I
have done with you."

He walked away conscious of having again lost his temper, which was rare.
The red-faced man he left stood still, his lips parted, the large yellow
teeth showing. "It's that damned parson," he said.

Penhallow rejoined his wife. "What did he want?" she asked.

"Oh, work," he said. "I told him he could get no more from me."

"Well, James," she said, "that is the first sensible thing you have ever
done about that man. You have thoroughly spoiled him, and now it is very
likely too late to discipline him."

"Yes--perhaps--you may be right." He knew her to be right, but he did not
like her agreement with his decision to be connected with even her mild
statement that it had been better if long before he had been more
reasonably severe and treated Lamb as others would have treated him. In
the minor affairs of life Ann Penhallow used the quick perception of a
woman, and now and then brought the Squire's kindly excesses to the bar
of common sense. Sometimes the sentence was never announced, but now and
then annoyed at his over-indulgent charity she allowed her impatience the
privilege of speech, and then, as on this occasion, was sorry to have
spoken.

Dismissing