u no that u beter be Keerful hoo yoo an yore familly
tacks cides with fer peepl wont Stan it too hev the Men wat's sportin
the wuns wat's robin us, sported bi yor Fokes kepin kumpne with 'em, u
been a ossifer ov the Lau, yor Ha wil bern as qick as to an yor Barn tu,
so Tak kere. No mor ad pressnt."

This letter accomplished its purpose. The Squire's spectacles slipped
off several times while he read it. His wig had to be adjusted. If he
had been threatened personally he would not have minded it so much. But
the hay stacks were dearer to him than the apple of his glass eye. The
barn was more precious than his wig. And those who hoped to touch Bud in
a tender place through this letter knew the Squire's weakness far better
than they knew the spelling-book. To see his new red barn with its large
"Mormon" hay-press inside, and the mounted Indian on the vane,
consumed, was too much for the Hawkins heart to stand. Evidently the
danger was on the side of his niece. But how should he influence Martha
to give up Bud? Martha did not value the hay-stacks half so highly as
she did her lover. Martha did not think the new red barn, with the great
Mormon press inside and the galloping Indian on the vane, worth half so
much as a moral principle or a kind-hearted action. Martha, bless her!
would have sacrificed anything rather than forsake the poor. But Squire
Hawkins's lips shut tight over his false teeth in a way that suggested
astringent purse-strings, and Squire Hawkins could not sleep at night if
the new red barn, with the galloping Indian on the vane, were in danger.
Martha must be reached somehow.

So, with many adjustings of that most adjustable wig? with many turnings
of that reversible glass eye? the Squire managed to frighten Martha by
the intimation that he had been threatened, and to make her understand,
what it cost her much to understand, that she must turn the cold
shoulder to chivalrous, awkward Bud, whom she loved most tenderly,
partly, perhaps, because he did not remind her of anybody she had ever
known at the East.

Tuesday evening was the fatal time. Spelling-school was the fatal
occasion. Bud was the victim. Pete Jones had his revenge. For Bud had
been all the evening trying to muster courage enough to offer himself as
Martha's escort. He was not encouraged by the fact that he had spelled
even worse than usual, while Martha had distinguished herself by holding
her ground against Jeems Phillips for half an hour. Bu