some kind of answer, instead of breakin' for home.

"Oh, my! my! my!" says Mary Ann, not paying the least attention to Miss Hitty's remarks. "My!" says she, "you'd ought to shuck them clothes. What you wastin' your time on boys fur? You was always hombly, Hitty; yes, but you're clean—I'll say that for you—you're clean. You stand some chance yet. You git married and shuck them clothes—but shuck them clothes anyhow!"

"'You git married and shuck them clothes'"

You could have heard her to Willet's Mountain. And away she flew.

Miss Hitty cried all the way home. I did my best to comfort her, but Mary Ann jabbed deep. She was child entirely when we reached her front door, and she turned to me just like a child.

"Must I wear different clothes, Will?" she says.

"Not a darn bit," says I. "Not for all the jealous, pop-eyed old Jezebels in ten townships."

She stood a moment, relieved, but still doubtful. "I don't know but what I should," she said. Then I got in the argument that went every time, on every question, in those parts. "Why, Miss Hitty!" I says, "how you talk! Think of the cost of it!"

She was so grateful she threw both arms and her parasol around my neck and kissed me then and there. "I won't!" she says, stamping her foot, "I won't! I won't!" and she swept into the house real spirited, like a high-strung mouse.

So it come I was Miss Hitty's champion.

Algy Anker happened to see Miss Hitty kiss me, and, of course, I heard from it. All the gay wags in town took a fly out of me. Even old Eli led me mysteriously to one side and whispered he believed in helping young fellers, so, when I was getting my outfit—he winked—why, he'd make a big reduction in tinware. I stood most of the gaffing pretty well, although I couldn't stop at any place without adding to the collection of rural jokes, but at last one man stepped over the line that separates a red-head from war.

There was always a crowd of country loafers around the tavern. A city loafer ain't like a country loafer. The city loafer is a blackguard that ain't got a point in his favor, except that he's different from the country loafer.

One day I had to go by the tavern and I see Mick Murphy tilted back in his chair, hat over eyes, thumbs in suspenders; big 

 Prev. P 21/117 next