"They are a heap livelier than they look to be, Sister Jane," said the Squire reassuringly. "Little as she was, I lay Billy Carew's wife had her say." "Well," said Miss Jane, "a mouse'll squeal if you tromple on it." Squire Inchly had a jovial appearance ordinarily; but when he found it necessary to wrestle with the moral problems that the sharp tongue of his sister presented to his mind, he was in the habit of putting on his spectacles, as if by that means to examine them more impartially. He put his spectacles on now, and with them a severe judicial frown. "That's the trouble, Sister Jane,--that's the trouble," he said after a while. "The mouse'll squeal and squeal, but where's the man that ever got use to sech squealin'?" "Don't pester the mouse then," said Miss Jane, sententiously. "Old Bradley Gaither," remarked the Squire, showing a disposition to wander away from a dangerous discussion,--"Old Bradley Gaither ain't only got mighty nigh all the Carew plantation, but he's hot arter the balance of it. Last sale-day he took me off behind the Court-house, and, says he-- "'Square,' says he, 'I'd like mighty well for to git that Carew place,' says he. "'Why, Mr. Gaither,' says I, 'you've in-about got it all now,' says I. "'Square Ichabod," says he, 'it's only a matter of two hundred acres or thereabouts, and it cuts right spang into my plantation,' says he. "'Well,' says I, 'two hundred acres ain't much, yit arter all it's a piece of land,' says I. "'That's so,' says he, 'but I want that land, and I'm willin' for to pay reasonable. I want you to buy it for me, Square,' says he. "Right across from where we sot," the Squire continued, taking off his spectacles, "old Billy Carew was a cuttin' up and singin' his worldly-reminded gongs, and Jack was a-tryin' for to git him off home. "'Mr. Gaither,' says I, 'do you want to crowd that poor old creetur out 'n the county?' says I. 'And look at Jack; you won't find a better-favoured youngster,' says I. "I disremember what he said," the Squire went on; "but when I named Jack he puckered up them thin lips of his'n like he was fortifyin' his mind ag'in anger. I didn't let on about Rose and Jack, Sister Jane, but I reckon Mr. Gaither has got his suspicions. No doubt he has got his suspicions, Sister Jane." "Ichabod," said Miss Jane, scratching her head with the long teeth of her tucking-comb, "you're too old to be made a tool of. Let old Bradley Gaither do his own buyin' and sellin'. That old scamp is deep as a well. Them that didn't know him'd think he was sanctified; yit he's got devilment enough in him to break the winders out 'n the meetin'-house. Well, he needn't pester wi' Jack and Rose," Miss Jane went on; "Jack'll never marry Rose whilst old Billy Carew is hoppin' along betwixt the grocery and the graveyard. Lord, Lord! to think that sech a no-'count old ereetur as that should be a-ha'ntin' the face of the earth!"