"Thet the liquor hez at last done its work, an' ole Planter Brandon air dead." "O father! surely you do not call it good news?" "And shurly I do--the best o' news. Alf air now full master o' the place, an' thar's nothin' to hinder you from bein' full mistress o't. I know he intend makin', you a offer o' marriage, an' I've reezun to b'lieve it'll be done this very day. Brandon war buried day before yesserday." "If he does, father, I shall refuse him." "Refuse him!" cried the quondam squatter, half starting out of the chair in which he had just seated himself. "Lena, gurl! hev ye tuk leave o' yur senses? Air ye in airnest?" "I am, father. I mean what I've said." "Mean, darnation! ye're eyether mad, gurl, or else talkin' like a chile. D'ye know what refusin' means?" "I have not thought of it." "But I hev, over an' over agin. It means beggary--preehap sturvation, for myself as well as you." "I'd rather starve than marry Alf Brandon." "Ye woud, woud ye? Then ye may hev a chance o't, sooner'n ye think for. Ye've got an idea yur ole dad's well to do; an' so think a good many other folks. Thar's been a house built, an' a clarin' made; but neyther's been paid for. Jerry Rook don't know the day he may hev to up sticks, an' go back agin to some durned old crib o' a cabin." "Father! I was as happy in our old cabin as I've ever been in this fine house. Ay, far happier." "Yer war, war ye? But I warn't--not by a long chalk; and I don't want to squat in any o' yer shanties agin--not if I kin keep out o' 'em. Hyar's a plan by which yur may be rich for the rest o' yur life; an' thur'd be no need for me starvin' eyther. Alf Brandon kums in for a good plantation, wi' three score niggers on it; an' thur's nothin' to hinder yur from bein' mistress o' the hul lot." "I don't wish it." "But I do; an' I mean to hev it so. Don't git it in yur head, good-lookin' as yur may think yurself, thet the world air a stick o' sugar-candy an' ye've got nothin' to do but suck it. I tell yur, gurl, I've drifted into difeequilties. I've had some rasources you know nothin' beout; but I can't tell the day _the supplies may be stopt_, an' then we've got to go under. Now, d'ye unnerstan' me?" "Indeed, father, I know nothing of your affairs. How should I? But I am sure I should never be happy as the wife of Alfred Brandon." "An' why? What hev yur get agin him? He's a good-lookin' feller-- doggoned good-lookin'." "It has nothing to do with his looks." "What then? His karracktur, I s'pose?" "You know it is not good."