“Did you ever stop to think, Lys,” drawled Ama-zeen, “that people who have things pretty much their own way, without carin’ what other people want, who tromp over commands, disobey parents, bust into fam’lies and all that, are pretty apt to be scaly critters? Bein’ as they are, Sylveny Willard and Phin Look deserve to have each other; but bein’ as they are, it’s almighty likely they never will. Cuts both ways, you see! A woman that forgets all her father has done for her and leaves him alone in his old age and goes away to a man that he is dead ag’inst, has got the disposition to treat a husband as bad as she has a father. May not do it, understand--but the disposition is there. Marryin’ and givin’ in marriage is all right, but fam’ly loyalty is something, too. You want to remember that Coll Willard probably don’t seem to her the same as he does to us. A man that busts into a family when he knows he ain’t wanted may be gritty and in love, and all that, but he’s puttin’ himself and his pleasure and in-t’rests first, and lettin’ others trail. Phin Look allus has practised what he preaches to his clients. But it has sartinly happened bad for him--Hime’s cuttin’ up and all the rest, and it ain’t lookin’ much better just now.” “I had an idea they’d git married sometime,” said Brickett. “You’ll find that Squire Phin has had some partic’lar mighty good reason for stayin’ in this little place. He don’t belong here and he never has. A drummer told me that outside of here he’s called one of the best-read men in the State. Judges all say that, the drummer told me. He don’t have to stay here, not by a long shot. Yes, I thought they’d git married some day when old Coll got through, but I guess this Hime matter comin’ up agin will bust things forever. Klebe will take it up.” “I’ll tell you what I think will happen now,” broke in a tall young man who had sauntered up and had been listening. No one asked any questions. Amazeen bored his cane deeper with indignant twistings, as he reflected on the situation. “I reckon she’ll give in to the Judge at last and marry King Bradish.” The lounger spoke with tone of conviction. Buck and Amazeen slowly turned their heads and stared at each other with a singular look of mutual intelligence. Amazeen’s lips were set in a straight line above his bristly brush of short chin beard. There was a flicker of malice in Uncle Buck’s gray eyes, glittering under their tufted brows. When they had established a thorough understanding by means of a prolonged stare, they simultaneously struggled to their feet and started around the store. At the foot of the outside stairway they paused and looked at each other again. “Ain’t nobody else up there with him, is there?” asked Amazeen. “No one ain’t gone up sence he opened shop,” replied Buck. “He got down early.”’