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salt, not to mention their fatted chicks, their pickled peaches, their jams and jellies. It's an outrage to insinuate, as you do, that these kind neighbours are common thieves." My brother looked quite distressed. "Of course Mrs. Swiggart can know nothing about it. She is a real good sort; the best wife and mother in the county. And I'm only quoting Uncle Jake. He says that fifteen steers at $30 a head make $450. Laban built a barn that spring, and put up a tank and windmill." With this Parthian shot my brother left me to some sorry reflections. I cordially liked and respected Laban Swiggart and his family. He had married a Skenk. No name in our county smelled sweeter than Skenk: a synonym, indeed, for piety, deportment, shell-work, and the preserving of fruits. The Widow Skenk lived in San Lorenzo, hard by the Congregational Church; and it was generally conceded that the hand of one of her daughters in marriage was a certificate of character to the groom. No Skenk had been known to wed a drunkard, a blasphemer, or an evil liver. Moreover, Laban had been the first to welcome us--two raw Englishmen--to a country where inexperience is a sin. He had helped us over many a stile; he had saved us many dollars. And he had an honest face. Broad, benignant brows surmounted a pair of keen and kindly eyes; his nose proclaimed a sense of humour; his mouth and chin were concealed by a beard almost apostolic in its silky beauty. Could such a man be a thief? The very next day Laban rode down his steep slopes and asked us to help him and his to eat a Christmas turkey. He said something, too, about a fine ham, and a "proposition," a money-making scheme, to be submitted to us after the banquet. "Hard times are making you rich," said Ajax. "My God!" he exclaimed passionately, "have I not been poor long enough? Have I not seen my wife and children suffering for want of proper food and clothing? If prosperity is coming my way, boys, I've paid the price for it, and don't you forget it." His eyes were suffused with tears, and Ajax took note of it. My brother told me later that so tender a husband and father was assuredly no cattle-thief. Upon Christmas Day we sat at meat for nearly two hours. Mrs. Doctor Tapper, the wife of the stout dentist of San Miguelito, was present. Of the three Misses Skenk she had made the best match--from a worldly point of view. She wore diamonds; she kept two hired girls; she entertained on a hands
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