$10."

The Deacon had been pondering. To his thrifty mind it seemed like a
waste to give a crisp, new $5 bill for such an insignificant thing as a
chicken. Like Indiana farmers of his period, he regarded such things
as chickens, eggs, butter, etc., as "too trifling for full-grown men
to bother about. They were wholly women-folks' truck." He fingered the
bills in his bosom, and thought how many bushels of wheat and pounds of
pork they represented. Then he thought of Si in the hospital, and how a
little chicken broth would build him up. Out came five new $5 bills.

"Here's your money," he said, thumbing over the bills clumsily and
regretfully.

The old woman lowered her spectacles from the top of her head, and
scrutinized them.

"What's them?" she asked suspiciously.

"Why, them's greenbacks Government money the very best kind," explained
the Deacon. "You can't have no better'n that."

"Don't tech hit! Don't have nothin' to do with it!" shouted the old
man. "Hit's high treason to take Federal money. Law's awful severe about
that. Not less'n one year, nor more'n 20 in the penitentiary, for a
citizen, and death for a soljer, to be ketched dealin' in the inemy's
money. I kin turn yo' right to the law. Ole man, take yo' money and
cl'ar off the place immejitly. Go out and gather up yo' chickens, Betsy,
and fasten 'em in the coop. Go away, sah, 'or I shell blow the horn for
help."

"I wuz talkin' 'bout Confederit money," said the woman, half
apologetically. "I wouldn't tech that 'ere stuff with a soap-stick. Yo'd
better git away as quick as yo' kin ef yo' know what's good for yo'."

She went into the yard to gather up her flock, and the Deacon walked
back into the road. When out of sight he sat down on a rock to meditate.
There was not another house in sight anywhere, and it was rapidly
growing dark. If he went to an other house he would probably have the
same experience. He had set his heart on having those chickens, and he
was a pretty stubborn man. Somehow, in spite of himself, he parted the
bushes and looked through to see where the woman was housing her fowls,
and noted that it was going to be very dark. Then he blushed vividly,
all to himself, over the thoughts which arose.

"To think of me, a Deacon in the Baptist Church, akchelly meditatin'
about goin' to another man's coop at night and stealin' his chickens?
Could Maria ever be made to believe such a thing? I can't be lieve it
myself."

Then he made himse