At that moment Nan arrived on the scene, her anger at white heat. She caught her breath, and then stood looking at Mr. Sanders, with eyes that fairly blazed with scorn and anger. "Ef looks'd burn, honey, they wouldn't be a cinder left of me," said Mr. Sanders, moving uneasily. "Arter she's through wi' me, Gabriel, plant me in a shady place, an' make old Tar-Baby thar," indicating Tasma Tid, who had followed Nan--"make old Tar-Baby thar set on my grave, an' warm it up once in awhile. I leave you my Sunday shirts wi' the frills on 'em, Gabriel, an' my Sunday boots wi' the red tops; an' have a piece put in the Malvern paper, statin' that I was one of the most populous and public-sperreted citizens of the county. An' tell how I went about killin' jimson weeds an' curkle-burrs for my neighbours by blowin' my breath on 'em." What Nan had intended to say, she left unsaid. Her feelings reacted while Mr. Sanders was talking, and she turned her back on him and began to cry. Under the circumstances, it was the very thing to do. Mr. Sanders's face fell. "I'll tell you the honest truth, Gabriel--I never know'd that anybody in the roun' world keer'd a continental whether I was drunk or sober, alive or dead; an' I'd lots ruther some un 'd stick a knife through my gizzard than to see that child cryin'." He rose and went to Nan--he was not too tipsy to walk--and tried to lay his hand on her arm, but she whirled away from him. "Honey," he said, "what must I do? I'll do anything in the world you say." "Go home and try to be decent," she answered. "I will, honey, ef you an' Gabriel will go wi' me. I need some un for to keep the boogers off. You git on the lead side, honey, an' Gabriel, you be the off-hoss. Now, hitch on here"--he held out both elbows, so that each could take him by an arm--"an' when you're ready to start, give the word." Nan dried her eyes as quickly as she could, but before she would consent to go with Mr. Sanders, insisted on searching him. She found a flask of apple-brandy, and hurled it against the side of the court-house. "Nan," he said ruefully, "that's twice you've broke my heart in a quarter of an hour. Ain't there some way you can break Gabriel's?" He paused and sniffed the fumes of the apple-brandy. "It's a mighty good thing court ain't in session," he remarked, "bekaze the judge an' jury an' all the lawyers would come pourin' out for to smell at that wall there. You say they ain't no way for you to break Gabriel's heart, too?" he asked again, turning to Nan. "I just know my eyes are a sight," she said in reply. "Are they red and swollen, Gabriel?" "They are somewhat red, but----" "But what?" she asked, as Gabriel paused. "They are just as pretty as ever." "Mr. Sanders, that is the first compliment he ever paid me in his life."