(Continued from last week.)
Mr. Busby straightened his coun
tenance.
“He don't seem to notice—nor keer
—*bout gals—do he?”
No one spoke.
“No, durn him, he ain’t no good.
Say—what’ll you give for him, hah?
Yere he goes to the highest bidder—
for richer, for poorer, for better, for
worsen tip and down, in and out,
swing your partners—what’s bid? He
ken plow as crooked as a mule’s hind
leg, sleep hard as a ’possum in winter
time, eat like a snake, git left efery
time—but he ken ketch fish. They
wait on him. What's bid?”
No one would hazard a bid.
"Yit a minute," shouted the old fel
low, pulling out his bull’s-eye watch
again, “what's bid? Going—going—all
done—going—"
“A dollar!”
The bid came from behind him, and
the voice was beautiful to hear. A
gleam came into the old man’s eyes as
he hoard it. He deliberately put th<*
watch hack in its pocket, put on his
spectacles, and turned, as if she were
a stranger.
“Gone!” he announced then. “Who's
the purchaser? Come forwards and
take away you’ property. What's the
name, please?" Then he pretended to
recognize her. “Oach! Sally! Well,
that’s lucky! He goes in good hands.
He's sound and kind, but needs the
whip.” He held out his hand for the
dollar.
It was the girl of whom he had
spoken accurately as a prize. Her
sleeves were turned up as far as they
would go, revealing some soft lace
trimrned whiteness, and there was
flour on her arms. Some patches of
it on her face gave a petal like effect
to her otherwise aggressive color. The
pretty dress was pinned far enough
back to reveal the prettier petticoat—
plus a pair of trimly-clad ankles.
Perhaps these were neither the gar
ments nor tile airs in which every
farmer-maiden did iter baking. Hut
then, Sally was no ordinary farmer
maiden. She was all this, it is true,
but she was, besides, grace and color
and charm itself. And if she chose to
bake in such attire—or, even, if she
chose to pretend to do so, where was 1
the churl to say her nay, even though
the Hour was part of a deliberate
“make-up?” Certainly he was not
at the store that summer morning.
And Seffy was there. Her hair es
caped redness by only a little. Hut
that little was just the difference be
tween ugliness and beauty. For,
whether Sally were beautiful or not—
about which we might contend a bit
—her hair was, and perhaps that is
the reason why it was nearly always
uncovered—or, possibly, again, be
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cause it was so much uncovered wras
the reason it was beautiful. It seemed
to catch some of the glory of the sun.
Her face had a few freckles and her
mouth was a trifle too large. Llut, in
it were splendid teeth.
In short, by the magic of brilliant
color and natural grace she narrowly
escaped being extremely handsome—
in the way of a sun burned peach, or
a maiden's-blush apple. And even if
you should think she were -not hand
some, you would admit that there was
an indescribable rustic charm about
her. She was like the aroma of the
hay-fields, or ttie woods, or a field of
daisies, or dandelions.
The girl, laughing, surrendered the
money, and the old man, taking ar
arm of each, marched them peremp
'.orily away.
"Come to the house and git his
clothes. Eferysing goes in—stofepipt
hat, butterfly necktie, diamond pin,
tooth-brush, hair-oil, razor and soap.”
They had got far enough around the
corner to be out of sight of the store
during this gaiety, and the old man
shoved Seffy and the girl in front of
him, linked their arms, and retreated
to the rear.
>v iiciL orpuciujau r. nauiu^aiiuci,
Senior, hath j’ined together, let no
body put athunder, begoshens!” he an
nounced.
The proceeding appeared to be pain
ful to Seffy, but not to Sally. She
frankly accepted the situation and
promptly put into action its opportuni
ties for coquetry. She begged him,
first, with consummate aplomb, to aid
her in adjusting her parcels more se
curely, insisting upon carrying them
herself, and it would be impossible to
describe adequately her allures. The
electrical touches, half-caress, half-de
fiance; the confidential whisperings,
so that the wily old man in the rear
might not hear; the surges up against
him; the recoveries—only to surge
again—these would require a mechan
ical contrivance which reports not
only speech but action—and even this
might easily fail, so subtle was it all'
"Sef—Seffy, I thought it was his
old watch he was auctioning off. I
wanted it for—for—a nest-egg! aha
ha ha! You must excuse me."
"You wouldn’t 'a' bid at all if you d
knowed it was me, I reckon,” said
Seffy.
"Yes, I would,” declared the co
quette. “I'd rather have you than any
nest-egg in the whole world—any two
of 'em!”—and when he did not take
his chance—"if they were made of
gold!”
Hut then she spoiled it.
“It's worse fellows than you, Seffy.
The touch of coquetry was but too ap
parent.
"And better," said Seffy, with a
lump in his throat. "I know I ain’t no
good with gir's—and I don’t care!"
“Yes!" she assented wickedly.
"There are better ones.”
“Sam Pritz—’’
Sally looked away, smiled, and w’as
silent.
“Sulky SefTy!" she finally said.
“If he does stink of salt mackerel,
and ’most always drunk!" Seffy went
on bitterly. "He's nothing but a mo
lasses-tapper!"
Sally began to drift further away
and to sing. Calling Pritz names was
of no consequence —except it kept
Seffy from making love to her
while he was doing it—which seemed
foolish to Sally. The old man came
up and brought them together again.
"Oach! go 'long and make lofe some
more. I like to see it. I expect I am
an old fool, but I like to see It—It’s
like ol’ times—yas, and If you don't
look out there. SefTy, I'll take a hand
myself—vassir! go ’long!”
He drew them very close together,
each looking the other way. Indeed
he held them there for a moment,
roughly.
SefTy stole a glance at Sally. He
wanted to see how she was taking his I
father's odiously intimate suggestion.
Hut it happened that Sally wanted
to see how he was taking it. She
laughed with the frankest of joy as
their eyes met.
"Seffv—I do—like you,” said the co
quette. "And you ought to know it.
You imp!"
.Now this was immensely stimulat
ing to the bashful SefTy.
"I like you,” he said—“ever since we
was babies."
“Sef—I don't believe you. Or you
wouldn't waste your time so—about ;
Sam Fritz!”
"Hr—Sally—where you going to to
night?" SelTy meant to prove him
self.
And Sally answered, with a little
fright at the sudden aggressiveness
she had procured.
-\owneres that I know of.
“Well—may 1 set up with you?”
The pea'-green sunbonnet could not
conceal the amazement and then the
radiance which shot into Sally's face.
“Set—ui)—with—me!”
“Yes!” said Seffy, almost savagely.
“That’s what I said."
“Oh, 1—I guess so! Yes! of course!”
she answered variously, and rushed
off home.
"You know I own you," she laughed
back, as if she had not been sufficient
ly explicit. “I paid for you! Your
pappy’s got the money! I'll expect my
property to-night.”
"Yas!” shouted the happy old man,
"and begoshens! it’s a reg’ler bargain! |
Ain’t it, Seffy? You her property—
real estate, hereditaments and tene
ments.” And even Seffy was drawn
into the joyous laughing conceit of it!
Had he not just done the bravest
thing of his small life?
“Yes!" he cried after the fascinating
Sally. "For sure and certain, to-night.”
“It's a bargain!” she cried.
“For better or worser, richer or
poorer, up an’ down, in an’ out,
chassez right and left! Aha-ha-ha!
Aha-ka-ha! Hut, Seffy,”—and the
happy father turned to the happy son
and hugged him, “don’t you efer forgit
that she’s a feather-head and got a
bright red temper like her daddy!
And they both work mighty bad to
gether sometimes. When you get her
at tho right place onct—well, nail her
ocwn—hand and feet—so's she can’t
gif away. When she gits mad her lit
tle brain evaporates, and if she had a
knife she’d go round stabbing her best
friends—that's the only sing that
safes her—yas, and us!—no knife. If
she had a knife it would be funeralB
following her all the time.”
II.
What Have Feelings Got to Do With
Cow-Pas-ture?
They advanced together now. Seffy’s
father whistling some tune that was
never heard before on earth, and. with
his arm in that of his son, they watch
ed Sally bounding away. Once more,
as she leaped a fence, she looked
laughingly back. The old man whistled
wildly out of tune. Seffy waved a
nand.
"Now you shouting, Seffy! Shout
agin!”
"I didn't say a word!”
‘‘Well—it ain't too late! Go on!”
Now Seffy understood and laughed
with his father.
“Nice gal, Sef—Seffy!”
"Yes!” admitted Seffy with reserve.
"Healthy.”
Seffy agreed to this, also.
“No doctor bills!” his father ampli
fied.
Seffy said nothing.
‘‘Entire orphen.”
"She's got a granny!”
"Yas,” chuckled the old man at the
way his son was drifting into the
situation—thinking about granny!— .
“but Sally^owns the farm!"
"Uhu! ” said Seffy, whatever that
might mean.
"And Sally’s the boss!”
Silence.
"And granny won't object to any
one Sally marries, anyhow—she das
sent! She'd git licked!”
"Who said anything about marry
ing?"
Seffy was speciously savage now
—as any successful wooer might be.
‘‘Nobody but me, sank you!” said
the old man with equally specious
meekness. “Look how she ken jump
a six-rail fence. Like a three-year
filly! She's a nice gal. Seffy—and the
farms j'ine together—her pasture-held
and our corn-field. And she's kissing
her hand backwards! At me or you,
Seffy?”
Seffy said he didn't know. And he
did not return the kiss—though he
yearned to.
“Well, 1 bet a dollar that the first
Initial of his last name is Sephanijah
P. Baumgarten, Junior."
“Well!" said Seffy with a great
flourish, "I'm going to set up with her
to-night.”
“Oach—git out, Sef!”—though he
A Dollar
spent at home reacts in its benefits
with unceasing general profit.
Sent out of town it’s life is ended.
Kept with the home merchants it is a messenger of continuous
benefit. Business men should awake to the importance of keeping
this dollar at home and make a bid for it by judicious advertising.
Knew ;t.
"You'll see.”
“No, 1 won’t,” enid his father. ”1
wouldn't he so durn mean. Nossir!"
Seffy grinned at this subtle foolery,
and his courage continued to grow.
“I’m going to wear my high hat!”
he announced, with his nose in the
air. s
“No, Sef! ” said the old man with
a wonderful inflection, fa ing him
about that he might look into his de
termined face. For it must be ex
plained that the stovepipe hat, in that
day and that country, was dedicated
only to the most momentous social oc
casions and that, consequently, gen
lemen wore it to go courting.
“Yes!" declared Softy again.
“Bring torth stovepipe.
The stovepipe, the stovepipe—”
chanted Seffy's frivolous father in the
way of the Anvil Chorus.
"And my butterfly necktie with—”
“Wiss the di’mond on?” whispered
his father.
They laughed in confidence of their
secret. Seffy. the successful wooer,
.vas thawing out again. The diamond
was not a diamond at all—the He
brew who sold it to Seffy had con
fessed as much. But he also swore
that if it were kept in perfect polish
no one but a diamond merchant could
tell the difference. Therefore, there
being no diamond merchant anywhere
near, and the jewel being always im
maculate. Seffy presented it as a dia
mond and had risen perceptibly in the
opinion of the vicinage.
{Continued on page 8)
THE REV. IRL R. HICKS
Almanac and Magazine
Should be in
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His monthly magazine, Word and
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lications.* Address all orders to
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