"'Who's that barber's sign when it's to home?' says I to Jonadab. He
snorted contemptuous.

"'That?' he says. 'Don't you know the cut of that critter's jib? He
plays pool "for the house" in Web Saunders's place over to Orham. He's
the housekeeper's steady comp'ny--steady by spells, if all I hear's
true. Good-for-nothin' cub, I call him. Wisht I'd had him aboard a
vessel of mine; I'd 'a' squared his yards for him. Look how he cants his
hat to starboard so's to show them lovelocks. Bah!'

"'What's his name?' I asks.

"'Name? Name's Butler--Simeon Butler. Don't you remember . . . Hey? What
in tunket . . .?'

"Both of us had jumped as if somebody'd touched off a bombshell under
our main hatches. The windows of the dining room was right astern of us.
We whirled round, and there was Effie. She'd been clearin' off one of
the tables and there she stood, with the smashed pieces of an ice-cream
platter in front of her, the melted cream sloppin' over her shoes, and
her face lookin' like the picture of Lot's wife just turnin' to salt.
Only Effie looked as if she enjoyed the turnin'. She never spoke nor
moved, just stared after that buggy with her black eyes sparklin' like
burnt holes in a blanket.

"I was too astonished to say anything, but Jonadab had his eye on that
smashed platter and HE had things to say, plenty of 'em. I walked off
and left Effie playin' congregation to a sermon on the text 'Crockery
costs money.' You'd think that ice-cream dish was a genuine ugly, nicked
'antique' wuth any city loon's ten dollars, instead of bein' only new
and pretty fifty-cent china. I felt real sorry for the poor girl.

"But I needn't have been. That evenin' I found her on the back steps,
all Sunday duds and airs. Her hair had a wire friz on it, and her dress
had Joseph's coat in Scriptur' lookin' like a mournin' rig. She'd have
been real handsome--to a body that was color blind.

"'My, Effie!' says I, 'you sartin do look fine to-night.'

"'Yup,' she says, contented, 'I guess likely I do. Hope so, 'cause I'm
wearin' all I've got. Say, Mr. Wingate,' says she, excited as a cat in a
fit, 'did you see him?'

"'Him?' says I. 'Who's him?'

"'Why, HIM! The one the Seer said was comin'. The handsome,
dark-complected feller I'm goin' to marry. The Butler one. That was him
in the buggy this afternoon.'

"I looked at her. I'd forgot all about the fool prophecy.

"'Good land of love!' I says. 'You don't cal'late he's comin' to marry
YOU