ream. I thought I'd shot 'er. I was follerin' 'er all
night. Sometimes she was one thing, an' sometimes she was another, but I
drew a bead on 'er, an' down she went, an' up come my har quicker nor
lightnin'. I don't s'pose it looks very purty, but I can't help it."

"Have you tried anything on it?" inquired Mr. Snow with a puzzled look.

"Yis, everything but a hot flat iron, an' I'm a little afraid o' that.
If wust comes to wust, it'll have to be did, though. It may warm up my
old brains a little, but if my har is well sprinkled, and the thing is
handled lively, it'll pay for tryin'."

The perfect candor and coolness of Jim's manner were too much for the
unsuspicious spirit of the minister, who thought it all very strange. He
had heard of such things, but this was the first instance he had ever
seen.

"Parson," said Jim, changing the topic, "what's the damage for the sort
o' thing ye're drivin' at this mornin'?"

"The what?"

"The damage--what's the--well--damage? What do ye consider a fa'r
price?"

"Do you mean the marriage fee?"

"Yes, I guess that's what ye call it."

"The law allows us two dollars, but you will permit me to perform the
ceremony for nothing. It's a labor of love, Mr. Fenton. We are all very
much interested in Miss Butterworth, as you see."

"Well, I'm a little interested in 'er myself, an' I'm a goin' to pay for
the splice. Jest tuck that X into yer jacket, an' tell yer neighbors as
ye've seen a man as was five times better nor the law."

"You are very generous."

"No; I know what business is, though. Ye have to get somethin' to square
the buryins an' baptizins with. When a man has a weddin', he'd better
pay the whole thing in a jump. Parsons have to live, but how the devil
they do it in Sevenoaks is more nor I know."

"Mr. Fenton! excuse me!" said Mr. Snow, coloring, "but I am not
accustomed to hearing language of that kind."

"No, I s'pose not," said Jim, who saw too late that he had made a
mistake. "Your sort o' folks knuckle to the devil more nor I do. A good
bein' I take to, but a bad bein' I'm careless with; an' I don't make no
more o' slingin' his name round nor I do kickin' an old boot."

Mr. Snow was obliged to laugh, and half a dozen others, who had gathered
about them, joined in a merry chorus.

Then Miss Snow came out and whispered to her father, and gave a roguish
glance at Jim. At this time the house was full, the little yard was
full, and there was a crowd of boys a