"Oh, of course," said Margaret. "The only use a man ever has for the Bible is to hit a woman with it." She went over to a safe, looking back at her husband who stood watching her, his droll countenance lighted with a humorous grin; she began to mix meal in a pan, stirring vigorously to make up corn pone, throwing in water with a dash. Tom and Lou were still engaged with the verses. "What is this line?" she asked. "'Her eye a star of heart's most gleaming hope,'" he read, and she purred like a kitten. "What does it mean?" she asked. "Why, er--it means all sorts of things." "It sounds like things you find in a book, but this is in writin', isn't it? And--and it smells like a violet in the woods." "What have they got thar, a mortgage?" Jasper inquired of Mrs. Mayfield. "The beginning of many a mortgage, Mr. Starbuck; some verses." "Huh," grunted the old man, "I don't reckon they are like some verses I had not long ago. Had a lawsuit befo' a jestice of the peace and they called it Starbuck verses Brown." Margaret ceased her work of mixing corn pone and looked round at him. "Jasper, anybody to hear you talk would think you don't know nuthin'." "Well," Starbuck replied, "that's the way to find out that a man don't know nuthin'--by hearin' him talk. Feller over the mountains had a son that was deef and dumb for twenty-odd year. Everybody lowed he was the smartest one of the fam'ly. But finally a doctor teached him how to talk and then they found out that he wan't nuthin' but a damned fool." The profane twist of the old man's defense amused Mrs. Mayfield. And Jim smiled. It was not only in keeping with the old man's half innocent character--it was the honest spurt of sinful Adam, remaining with the most of us--which the devout preacher may deplore for the sake of example and yet inwardly accept because he is human. I am told that there are languages that hold no profanity and we know that there are tongues too delicate for philosophy and too gentle for blank verse. "Now what do you want to pester a body thatter way for?" Margaret rejoined, thankful that Mrs. Mayfield had not been shocked. "I never seed a body that could be so aggrivatin'. Miz Mayfield, don't pay no 'tention to him when he talks thatter way, fur when he wants to he kin be right bright. "Oh, I understand him, Mrs. Starbuck," and then of Jasper she inquired: "How far is it to the post office?" "A little the rise of three mile. As soon as I git this gear in shape I'll have Kintchin hitch up and drive a passel of you over thar. I reckon we've got one of the smartest post-masters in the country. I've seed him rip open many a man's letter an' read it off just like print. Here, Kintchin! Kintchin! That nigger's asleep somewhar. One of these days somebody will fill him so full of lead you couldn't turn him over with a hand spike." Kintchin appeared at the door, stretching himself and rubbing his eyes. "What have you been doin'?" "Who, me?" "Yes, you."