"Funny is it, father, for your child to love mercy, and deal justly, even with the lowliest?" As he said this, young master stood in the doorway. He looked paler and even more spiritual than was his wont. Mr. Peterkin sat for full five minutes, gazing at the boy; and, strange to say, made no reply, but strode away from the room. Miss Jane and Tildy regarded each other with evident surprise. They had expected a violent outburst, and thus to see their father tamed and subdued by the word and glance of their boy-brother, astonished them not a little. Miss Tildy turned toward young master, and said, in what was meant for a most caustic tone, "You are an embryo Van Amburgh, thus to tame the lion's rage." "But you, Tildy, are too vulpine to be fascinated even by the glance of Van Amburgh himself." "Well, now, Johnny, you are getting impertinent as well as spicy." "Pertinent, you mean," said Mr. Worth. Miss Tildy would not look angry at _him_; for she was besieging the fortress of his affections, and she deemed kind measures the most advantageous. Were I to narrate most accurately the conversation that followed, the repartees that flashed from the lips of some, and the anger that burned blue in the faces of others, I should only amuse the reader, or what is more likely, weary him. I will simply mention that, after a few hours' sojourn, Mr. Worth took his departure, not without first having a long conversation, in a private part of the garden, with young master. Miss Bradly retired to the young ladies' room (for they would not allow her to leave the house), under pretext of headache. Often, as I passed in and out to ask her if she needed anything, I found her weeping bitterly. Late in the evening, about eight o'clock, Mr. Peterkin returned; throwing the reins of his horse to Nace, he exclaimed: "Well, I've made a good bargain of it; I've sold Lindy to a trader for one thousand dollars--that is, if she answers the description which I gave of her. He is comin' in the mornin' to look at her; and, with a little riggin' up, I think she'll 'pear a rale good-lookin' wench." When I went into the house to prepare some supper for Mr. Peterkin (the family tea had been despatched two hours before), he was in an excellent humor, well pleased, no doubt, with his good trade. "Now, Ann, be brisk and smart, or you might find yourself in the trader's hands afore long. Likely yellow gals like you sells mighty well; and if you doesn't behave well you is a goner."