“Ye air a outdacious, sassy, scandalous mink, an’ I hev ’lowed ez much fur many a year, but I never looked ter see the time when ye’d kem an’ prop yerse’f up in my gyarden-spot, an’ look me in the eye, an’ call me stingy. How war I ter know ye warn’t ez full ez a tick, ye impident half-liver? I kin see ez ye ain’t fat in no-wise, but how kin I tell by the creases in a man’s face what he hed fur dinner?” “Laws-a-massy, Mis’ Purvine!” exclaimed Mink, truly contrite for the untoward interpretation which his words seemed to bear. “I never meant sech ez that. Ef it hed been enny ways nigh cookin’ time, I’d hev kem right in,—ef I hedn’t been afraid ye’d tell on me,—an’ axed ye fur a snack. Ain’t I eat hyar time an’ agin along o’ Jerry Price? I hev hed a heap o’ meals from you-uns,—more ’n ye know ’bout, fur I hev treated yer water-million patch ez ef it hed been my own.” If Mrs. Purvine was placated, she did not at once manifest the fact. “What d’ye know ’bout cookin’ time, or cookin’, ye slack-twisted, lazy, senseless critter? Jes’ kerry yer bones right inter that thar door, fur eat ye hev got ter. In Moses’s name!” she ejaculated piteously, “the boy kin sca’cely walk.” But Mink hesitated. “I don’t wanter see Jerry,” he said. “I dunno what Jerry mought think ’bout’n it all.” “Jerry’s dead asleep, an’ so air all the boys,” declared the industrious Mrs. Purvine. “Ye reckon ye air goin’ ter find ennybody up this time o’ night ’ceptin’ a hard-workin’ old woman like me? I can’t be no surer o’ ye ’n I be a’ready. Go ’long in, ’fore I set Bose on ye.” He was sorry for himself,—to gauge the joy, the comfort, that the very sight of the humble and familiar room afforded him. The fire had been covered with ashes, but Mrs. Purvine promptly pulled out the coals and piled on the pine knots, and the white flare showed the low-ceiled apartment, the walls covered with the old advertisements; the puncheon floor; the many strings of pepper and hanks of yarn hanging from the beams, and the quilting-frame clinging to them like a huge bat; the two high beds; the glister of the ostentatious mirror; the prideful clock, silent on the shelf. As the interior became brilliantly illuminated, Mink looked suspiciously at the glass in the windows; he experienced a relief to note that the batten shutters were closed. “I didn’t want nobody ter git a glimge o’ me,” he said, “’kase I dunno but what they mought try ter hold ye ’sponsible fur feedin’ me, cornsiderin’ I be a runaway.” “They ain’t never ter goin’ ter find out ez ye hev been hyar now,” said Mrs. Purvine. “They mought ax ye,” suggested Mink.