“What else?” he asked lightly, leaning forward to break off a cedar berry and toss it away again. “Look here, Di, you’re down on me--what’s the matter?” “I want to understand you,” she replied slowly; “fifty dollars is too large a sum to give all at once to a negro; you’ll corrupt a member of the church, a brand snatched from the burning. Juniper has experienced religion.” Jacob laughed. “Been stealing chickens lately, I reckon.” “No, it was Lysander,” corrected Diana demurely. “The shopkeeper lawyer can defend him again,” said her cousin; “all the fools are not dead yet.” “No, indeed,” she agreed, so heartily that he looked up quickly. “I really meant to help the old nigger,” he said frankly; “he’s always begging, and he’s been sick and out of work. I’m sorry if you think fifty too much.” Diana touched her horse lightly, and they moved on. “Too much at one time,” she said more gently. “He’ll spend it in an enormous supply of tobacco, watermelons and whiskey, and probably go to the workhouse. If he does, you’ll have to bail him out, Jacob.” “Isn’t there a bare possibility that the watermelons might kill him?” he suggested meekly. “A negro?” Diana laughed. “Jacob, why didn’t you give it to Aunt Charity?” “She has, at present, purloined the silver teapot,” said Jacob; “my soul loves justice.” She looked sharply at him, her young face severe. “I believe you had another motive. Are you sure that it was for his good, and only for his good?” “Cross my heart,” said Jacob devoutly. “See here, Diana, why should I fritter away my substance? Of what use on earth could that old nigger be to me?” She looked thoughtful. The horses moved on evenly abreast. “None that I can see,” she admitted honestly; “after all, it was good of you; forgive me.” “After all, there is some good in me,” he replied, paraphrasing. “I’m worth noticing, my fair cousin!” “When you come directly across the horizon!” laughed Diana. Below them now was the highroad, and as they looked along the white bend of its elbow, below the ash and the young maples, they both saw the tall straight figure of Caleb Trench. He did not see them; he passed below them, and turned the shoulder of the hill. Diana said nothing; her eyes had reluctantly followed him. “There goes a fool,” remarked her cousin, “or a knave.” “Why is it,” asked Diana, “that a man, failing to agree with another, calls him names?” He laughed, his cheek reddening. “Why should I agree with that shyster?” “Why should that shyster agree with you?” she mocked, a light kindling in her clear eyes. Jacob chuckled unpleasantly. “I hope you’ve never claimed that six cents again,” he commented; “he’s got your receipt, you know.” It was her turn to redden. “You are jealous of his growing reputation,” she flung at him. He shrugged a shoulder. “Of that beautiful speech at Cresset’s, in which he painted me as the devil and all his works?”