"Um!... How about Sairy Pound?" Curtis shrugged his shoulders. "Calc'latin' on takin' her away with you to-night?" "Not now," said Farley. "Seein's how you can't use her to git this paper for you, eh? That it?" "Yes." "Calc'lated on marryin' her, didn't you?" "Fiddlesticks!" said Mr. Curtis, harshly. "Understand me, I hain't takin' chances.... If this gal's mixed up in this, I don't deal." "Do I look like a man who would let a silly, backwoods idiot of a girl stand between me and money? I'm through with her. She's no use to me now. You've said that yourself.... She's nothing to me." "Good.... I got the paper right here, and I'm a-listenin' to your offer for it...." "Ten thous--" began Farley, but a swift, furious thrusting open of the parlor door interrupted, as Sarah Pound flung herself into the room. For a moment she was speechless with rage.... Shame would come later.... "You contemptible--contemptible--contemptible--" she cried, breathlessly. "It was a thing like you I--I could choose!... I could throw away a man for you!... For a suit of clothes, and manners, and a lying tongue.... I could compare Bob Allen with you--and choose you!... Oh!..." "Sairy," said Scattergood. "But I never would have done it--not that. I'd never have taken that paper.... You know I wouldn't, Mr. Baines. Say you know that...." "Wa-al," said Scattergood, dryly, "they hain't no tellin' how fur a woman'll go when she's bein' bamboozled by a scamp--so I kind of insured ag'in' your takin' it by takin' it myself.... Er--Mr. Curtis, if I was you, I'd sort of slip out soft by the back door. Bob Allen's a-waitin' for you on the front porch.... There's a train at nine." Scattergood put a clumsy arm about Sarah, who, the moment her wrathful energy ebbed away, sobbed and sobbed and sobbed with shame and fear. "Hey, out there," shouted Scattergood, "git a move on you!" Bob Allen needed no urging. His arm was substituted for Scattergood's, his breast for Scattergood's--and Sarah made no complaint. "I wouldn't.... I wouldn't.... You thought I did," she murmured. "I thought that," said Bob, brokenly. "How can you ever forgive me?... I--But I love you, Sarah. Won't that make up for it?" "You--believed it," she repeated, and Scattergood grinned. "Dummed if she hain't managed to put him in the wrong.... You can't beat wimmin.... She's put him in the wrong." Scattergood peered at them a moment, saw what filled him with perfect satisfaction, and discreetly withdrew. He went out and sat on the porch and beamed up at the stars.... He sat there a long, long time, and nobody called him in. He got up, pressed his nose against the window, and rapped on the glass. "Everybody forgiv' and fixed up," he called, "so's I kin git to bed with an easy mind?" There was no answer. He had not been heard--but what he saw was answer sufficient for any man. THE END End of Project Gutenberg's Scattergood Baines, by Clarence Budington Kelland