ng fixins like a sunbeam in a shady place; and when
I pictured her without a dollar in the world--I--well my old Adam riz
right up, and I said, ``Asa do it''--and I did it.

Flo Well, I don't know who your old Adam may be, but whoever it is, he's
a very honest man to consult you to do so good an action. But how dare
you do such an outrageous thing? you impudent--you unceremonious, oh!
you unselfish man! you! you, you! [Smothers him with kisses, and runs
off, R. 1 E.]

Asa Well, if that ain't worth four hundred thousand dollars, I don't
know what is, it was sweeter than sweet cider right out of the bung
hole. Let me see how things stand round here. Thanks to old whiskers
I've got that ship for the sailor man, and that makes him and Miss
Florence all hunk. Then there's that darned old Coyle. Well I guess me
and old Murcott can fix his flint for him. Then there's--[Looks off, L.]
Christopher Columbus, here comes Mary.

Enter Mary, L. 1 E.

Mary Mr. Trenchard, what can I say to you but offer you my lifelong
gratitude.

Asa Don't now, Miss, don't--

Mary If I knew what else to offer. Heaven knows there is nothing that is
mine to give that I would keep back.

Asa Give me yourself. [Bus.] I know what a rude, ill-mannered block I
am; but there's a heart inside me worth something, if it's only for the
sake of your dear little image, that's planted right plump in the middle
of it.

Mary Asa Trenchard, there is my hand, and my heart is in it.

Asa [Seizes here hand, then drops it suddenly.] Miss Mary, I made what
folks call a big sacrifice for you, this morning. Oh! I know it, I ain't
so modest, but that I know it. Now what's this you're doing? Is this
sacrifice you are making out of gratitude for me? Cause if it is, I
wouldn't have it, though not to have it would nigh break my heart, tough
as it is.

Mary No, no, I give myself freely to you--as freely as you, this
morning, gave my grandfather's property to me.

Asa Say it again, last of hope and blessed promise. [Clasps her in his
arms.] Mary, there's something tells me that you'll not repent it. I'm
rough, Mary, awful rough, but you needn't fear that I'll ever be rough
to you. I've camped out in the woods, Mary, often and often, and seen
the bears at play with their cubs in the moonlight, the glistening
teeth, that would tear the hunter, was harmless to them; the big strong
claws that would peel a man's head, as a knife would a pumpkin, was as
soft for them as