ady, since the beginning of this interview, looked into the four
quarters of the globe, now dropped her eyes in search of the mysteries
beneath it.

"To be honest wid ye," admitted old Creecy, "I didn't 'low ye wuz
arter Suke, ezzactly, but I sorter reckin'd ef yer'd come ter see
Mell, it's the front do' yer'd er knockt at, es I ust ter do when I
went er courtin' my gal--Mell's mammy--an' had it out comferterble in
the parler. We has er very nice home up dar on the hill, with er whole
lot er fine furnisher in the front room, which Mell never rested 'till
I went in debt ter buy. Now its mos' paid fur, an' I kinder 'low Mell
'ud be glad ter see yer mos' enny time."

"Thank you," responded Mr. Devonhough, with frigidity.

"He mought go now, Mell, ef yer'd ax him."

"Not to-day, thank you," turning to Mell, with more graciousness of
manner. "In fact, I have not yet breakfasted;" and he abruptly bowed
adieu, and made his escape.

He was quite out of sight before father or daughter addressed a word
to each other. At length the old farmer demanded roughly of the girl
"What in the tarnation she wuz er blubberin' erbout?"

"What, indeed!" sobbed Mell, in a frenzy of passion, and with eyes of
storm. "I have good cause to cry. What else can I do? I can't say
_Damn!_"

"Can't yer? Why not? 'Tain't the cuss what's so bad; it's the feelin'.
Ef the devil's in yer, turn him out, I say. I ain't no advercate er
bad language, but ef er man feels like cussin' all the time, he mought
as well cuss! Dat's my opinion. An' ef it will help yer to cool down
er bit, my darter, I'll express them sentiments, which ain't too bad
for a young lady ter feel, but only to utter. So here goes--but
remember, Lord! 'tain't me, it's Mell--damn! damn! damn! Sich er
koncited, stiff-starched, buckram-backed, puppified popinjay, as this
Mr. Devil--"

"Hush your mouth," screamed the daughter, beside herself with rage; "I
don't want _him_ damned!"

"You don't! Then who?"

Mell, wrought up to the highest pitch of exasperation, made no reply
beyond looking daggers and gnashing her teeth.

"Not your old dad, Mell?"

"No, father; I don't want you damned either. But what did you come
down here for? What did you call him a cattle dealer for? What did you
talk about such horrid, nasty, disgusting things, for? Oh! I am
mortified almost to death."

"I sorter reckon'd yer'd hate it worser'n pisen," chuckled the old
farmer; "but er good dose of pisen is jess