bisness erquaintainces an' on _re_flection I made up my mine thet I bes'
thes say nothin' to the jedge. Thet's what I kem ter tell the young
'squire so's he won't ercuse me in his mine er lyin' ter 'im whence he
fine out thet I never tole the jedge. They was reasons--numbrous and
gineral reasons--fer me ter _re_fleck an' _re_track my plan."

He reflected for a moment now, and then lifting his hat by the peak,
turned it around, raised it high over his head, carried it back and put
it on; then from its mutilated front just above his eyebrow he snipped
off, with a deft jerk, another straw and started down the steps.

"They is some thet say Sabriny hev a temper thet don't stop ter be lit
up, Miss Brady, but lawsy, _I_ haint sayin' nothing agin' Sabriny's
temper, ner agin' Lige, ner nobody. Some folks will talk thet away. You
can't stop 'em long es they's 'live en kickin'; but _I_ got mighty
little ter say."

There was a long pause. Then with studied indifference of inflection he
continued:--

"I reckon my leetle bisness with the young 'squire kin wait without
mouldin' over night. I thes reckon hit wouldn't be edzackly bes' fer ter
discuss hit with nobody else," and he inserted the straw between his
teeth with great care and precision, and took his high stepping way
toward the Ridge, secure in his self-esteem and approbation in that not
even the wiles of a lady of the position of the young 'squire's mother
could betray him into divulging his secret. For, after all, she was but
a woman, and--well--this whole matter was a question of "proppity," and
therefore quite beyond her capacity.

As he disappeared over the hill, his straw havelock flapping gently in
the wind, and his vest spread wide against his pendent arms, the young
'squire's mother laughed gently and said:--

"Poor Sabrina, she _is_ a little weaker minded than Jeb, and Jeb is a
kind soul in his way. We must let the judge know the trouble, and see if
some honest and capable person cannot be found to handle that 'proppity'
and not squander, too recklessly, the two dollars and eleven cents in
the months that are to come. The life of an heiress is, indeed, beset
with pitfalls even among the Ridgers."

THE BROOK.

BY P. H. S.

I love the gentle music of the brook,
Its solitary, meditative song.
On every hill
Some stream has birth,
Some lyric rill,
To wake the selfish earth,
And smile and toss the heavens their sh