ithin its narrow
shade, and each carrying an infant relative. Into this place the parson
and M. St.-Ange entered, the little nurses jumping up from the sills to
let them pass in.

A half-hour may have passed. At the end of that time the whole juvenile
company were laying alternate eyes and ears to the chinks, to gather
what they could of an interesting quarrel going on within.

"I did not, saw! I given you no cause of offence, saw! It's not so, saw!
Mister Jools simply mistaken the house, thinkin' it was a
Sabbath-school! No such thing, saw; I _ain't_ bound to bet! Yes, I kin
git out. Yes, without bettin'! I hev a right to my opinion; I reckon I'm
a _white man_, saw! No saw! I on'y said I didn't think you could get the
game on them cards. 'Sno such thing, saw! I do _not_ know how to play! I
wouldn't hev a rascal's money ef I should win it! Shoot, ef you dare!
You can kill me, but you cayn't scare me! No, I shayn't bet! I'll die
first! Yes, saw; Mr. Jools can bet for me if he admires to; I ain't his
mostah."

Here the speaker seemed to direct his words to St.-Ange.

"Saw, I don't understand you, saw. I never said I'd loan you money to
bet for me. I didn't suspicion this from you, saw. No, I won't take any
more lemonade; it's the most notorious stuff I ever drank, saw!"

M. St.-Ange's replies were in _falsetto_ and not without effect; for
presently the parson's indignation and anger began to melt. "Don't ask
me, Jools, I can't help you. It's no use; it's a matter of conscience
with me, Jools."

"_Mais oui!_ 'tis a matt' of conscien' wid me, the same."

"But, Jools, the money's none o' mine, nohow; it belongs to Smyrny, you
know."

"If I could make jus' _one_ bet," said the persuasive St.-Ange, "I would
leave this place, fas'-fas', yes. If I had thing--_mais_ I did not
soupspicion this from you, Posson Jone'"--

"Don't, Jools, don't!"

"No! Posson Jone'."

"You're bound to win?" said the parson, wavering.

"_Mais certainement!_ But it is not to win that I want;'tis me
conscien'--me honor!"

"Well, Jools, I hope I'm not a-doin' no wrong. I'll loan you some of
this money if you say you'll come right out 'thout takin' your
winnin's."

All was still. The peeping children could see the parson as he lifted
his hand to his breast-pocket. There it paused a moment in bewilderment,
then plunged to the bottom. It came back empty, and fell lifelessly at
his side. His head dropped upon his breast, his eyes were for a