moment and then went on: "Babe, will you marry me
to-morrow?" He asked the question with more eagerness than he had yet
displayed.

"No, I won't!" exclaimed Babe, "ner the nex' day nuther. The man I
marry'll have a lots better opinion of me than what you er got."

Babe was very indignant, but she paused to see what effect her words
would have. Peevy rubbed his hands nervously together, but he made no
response. His serenity was more puzzling than that of the mountain. He
still smiled vaguely, but it was not a pleasing smile. He looked hard at
Babe for a moment, and then down at his clumsy feet. His agitation was
manifest, but it did not take the shape of words. In the trees overhead
two jays were quarreling with a catbird, and in the upper air a
bee-martin was fiercely pursuing a sparrow-hawk.

"Well," he said, after a while, "I reckon I better be gwine."

"Wait till your hurry's over," said Babe, in a gentler tone.

Peevy made no reply, but passed out into the road and disappeared down
the mountain. Babe followed him to the gate, and stood looking after
him; but he turned his head neither to the right nor to the left, and in
a little while she went into the house with her head bent upon her
bosom. She was weeping. Grandsir Hightower, who had shuffled out on the
porch to sun himself, stared at the girl with amazement.

"Why, honey!" he exclaimed, "what upon the top side er the yeth ails
you?"

"Tuck has gone home mad, an' he won't never come back no more," she
cried.

"What's the matter wi' 'im?"

"Oh, he's thes mad along er me."

"Well, well, well!" exclaimed the old man, fumbling feebly in his
pockets for his red bandanna handkerchief, "what kind of a come-off is
this? Did you ast him to stay to dinner, honey?"

"No--no; he didn't gimme a chance."

"I 'lowed you didn't," exclaimed Grandsir Hightower triumphantly. "I
thes natchally 'lowed you didn't. That's what riled 'im. An' now he'll
go off an' vilify you. Well, well, well! he's missed his dinner! The
fust time in many's the long day. Watch 'im, Babe! Watch 'im, honey! The
Ole Boy's in 'im. I know 'im; I've kep' my two eyes on 'im. For a mess
er turnip-greens an' dumperlin's that man 'u'd do murder." The old man
paused and looked all around, as if by that means to dissipate a
suspicion that he was dreaming. "An' so Tuck missed his dinner! Tooby
shore--tooby shore!"

"Oh, hit ain't that," cried Babe; "he's jealous of Cap'n Chichester."

"Why, the go