He nodded towards Jeffy, who seemed awed by the unaccustomedness of his surroundings, for he kept himself hidden back of the old man, his battered and brimless straw hat held nervously in his trembling fingers. “I am going to get work for him.” “Him work! Him! Why, he don't want no work, Mr. Oakley. He's too strong to work.” And Clarence went off into gales of merriment at the mere idea. For an instant Jeffy gazed in silence at the boy with quickly mounting wrath, then he said, in a hoarse _tremolo_: “You durned little loafer! Don't you give me none of your lip!” Clarence had sufficiently subsided to remark, casually: “The old man'd like to know what you got for that horse-blanket and whip you stole from our barn. You're a bird, you are! When he was willing to let you sleep in the barn because he was sorry for you!” “You lie, durn you!” fiercely. “I didn't steal no whip or horse-blanket!” “Yes, you did, too! The old man found out who you sold 'em to,” smiling with exasperating coolness. The outcast turned to Roger Oakley. “Nobody's willing to let by-gones be by-gones,” and two large tears slid from his moist eyes. Then his manner changed abruptly. He became defiant, and, step-ing from behind his protector, shook a long and very dirty forefinger in Clarence's face. “You just tell Chris Berry this from me--I'm done with him. I don't like no sneaks, and you just tell him this--he sha'n't never bury me.” “I reckon he ain't sweatin' to bury any paupers,” hastily interjected the grinning Clarence. “The old man ain't in the business for his health.” “And if he don't stop slandering me”--his voice shot up out of its huskiness--“if he don't stop slandering me, I'll fix him!” He turned again to Roger Oakley. “Them Berrys is a low-lived lot! I hope you won't never have doings with 'em. They'll smile in your face and then do you dirt behind your back; I've done a lot for Chris Berry, but I'm durned if I ever lift my hand for him again.” Perhaps he was too excited to specify the exact nature of the benefits which he had conferred upon the undertaker. Clarence ignored the attack upon his family. He contented himself with remarking, judiciously: “Anybody who can slander you's got a future ahead of him. He's got unusual gifts.” Here Roger Oakley saw fit to interfere in behalf of his protégé. He shook his head in grave admonition at the grinning youngster. “Jeffy is going to make a man of himself. It's not right to remember these things against him.” “They know rotten well that's what I'm always telling 'em. Let by-gones be by-gones--that's my motto--but they are so ornery they won't never give me a chance.” “It's going to be a great shock to the community when Jeffy starts to work, Mr. Oakley,” observed Clarence, politely. “He's never done anything harder than wheel smoke from the gas-house. Where you going to put up, Jeffy, when you get your wages?” “None of your durn lip!” screamed Jeffy, white with rage.