e boy returned promptly and cheerfully; "dead, and a
good thing. He was getting cranky."

Priscilla started back as if the mention of death on that glorious day
cast a cloud and a shadow.

"And your father, Jerry-Jo, is he, too, dead?"

"No. Dad, he is in jail!"

"In--jail!" Never in her life before had Priscilla known of any one being
in Kenmore jail. The red, wooden house behind its high, stockade fence
was at once the pride and relic of the place. To have a jail and never
use it! What more could be said for the peaceful virtues of a community?

"Yes. Dad's in jail and in jail he will stay, says he, till them as put
him there begs his pardon humble and proper."

Priscilla now dropped the yoke upon the rocks and gave her entire thought
to Jerry-Jo, who, she could see, was bursting with importance and a sense
of the dramatic.

"What did your father do, Jerry-Jo?"

"It was like this: Uncle Michael died and the wake we had for him was the
most splendid you ever saw. Bottles and kegs from the White Fish and
money to pay for all, too! Every one welcome and free to say his say and
drink his fill. I got drunk myself! Long about midnight Big Hornby he
said as how he once licked Uncle Michael, and Dad he cried back that to
blacken a man's name when he was too dead to stand up for it was a dirty
trick, and so it was! Then it was forth and back for a time, with
compliments and what not, and if you please just as Dad sent a bit of a
stool at Big Hornby, who should come in at the door but Mr. Schoolmaster,
him as had no invite and was not wanted! The stool took him full on the
arm and broke it--the arm--and folks took sides, and some one, after a
bit, got Dad from under the pile and tried to make him beg pardon! Beg
pardon at his own wake in his own home, and Schoolmaster taking chances
coming when he was not invited! Umph!"

Jerry-Jo's eyes flashed superbly.

"'I'll go to jail first and be damned,' said Dad, and that put it in the
mind of Big Hornby, and he up and says, 'To jail with him!' And so they
takes Dad, thinking to scare him, and claps him into jail, not even
mending the lock or nailing up the boards. That's three days since, and
yesterday Hornby he comes to Dad and says as how a steamer was in with
mail and freight and who was to carry it around? And Dad says as how I
was a man now and could hold up the honour of the family, says he, and
moreover, says Dad, 'I'll neither eat nor come out till you come to your