n?'

'Yas'; a wife, an' two as likely young 'uns as ye ever seed--boy 'bout
seven, an' gal 'bout twelve.'

'Well, Larkin, suppose _your_ little girl was upon that auction block;
suppose some villain had hired _me_ to aid in debauching her; suppose
you, her father, should come to me and plead with me not to do it;
suppose I should tell you what you have told me, and then--should go out
and buy _your_ child; what would you do? Would you not curse me with
your very last breath?'

He seated himself, and hung down his head, but made no reply.

'Answer me, like the honest man you are.'

'Wall, I reckon I shud.'

'Selma is to marry my adopted son. She is as dear to me as your child is
to you. Can you do to her, what you would curse me for doing to _your_
child? Look me in the face. Don't flinch--answer me!'

I rose, and stood before him. In a few moments he also rose, and,
looking me squarely in the eye--there was a tear in his--he brought his
hand down upon mine with a concussion that might have been heard a mile
off, and said:

'No, I'm d--d ter h--ef I kin.'

'You are a splendid, noble fellow, Larkin.'

'Ye're 'bout th' fust man thet ever said so, Mr. Kirke. Ye told me
suthin' like thet nigh on ter twelve yar ago. I hain't forgot it yit,
an' I never shill.'

'You're rough on the outside, Larkin, but sound at the core--sound as a
nut. I wish the world had more like you. Leave this wretched work!'

'I'd like ter, but I karn't. What kin a feller do, with neither money
nor friends?'

'Get into some honest business. I know you can. I'll help you--Joe will
help you. We'll talk things over to-night, and I know Joe will rig out
something for you.'

He remained seated for a while, saying nothing; then he rose, and, the
moisture dimming his eyes, said:

'I reckon ye're not over pious, Mr. Kirke, an' I _know_ ye'd stand a
hand at a rough an' tumble; but d--d ef thet ain't th' sort o' religion
I like. Come, sir; ef I stay yere, ye'll make a 'ooman on me.'

As we passed into the parlor, I said to Joe, who was seated there with
Selma:

'Give Larkin your hand, Joe; he's a glorious fellow.'

'My _heart_ is in it, Larkin,' said the young man, very cordially. 'It
would have come hard to draw a bead on _you_.'

'I knows it would, Joe, an' I wus ter blame; but I never could stand a
bluff.'

We passed out together to the auction stand. Selma and her brother
ascended the block, while Larkin and I mingled with the buyer