"Better do that than to throw away yo' liberty. You know that it means ruin for you an' yo' wife an' a broken heart fur yo' girl. All I've got to do is to act, an' you go to the penitentiary." Upon Starbuck's face there was an expression of keen suffering. Pleadingly he put up his hands, looking toward the door leading into the kitchen and exclaimed. "Hold on. Somebody mout hear you." "Oh, got you to thinkin', have I?" "Yes, an' a man thinks better when he's by hisse'f." Peters moved off toward the door and halting, remarked: "Yes, may think better when he's by hisse'f, but not as fast. When he's got thinkin' to do that he don't want to do he mout shirk it if left by hisse'f. Well, I'll give you a leetle mo' time, but not much. My plan is that when you've got a bad piece of work on hand, git through with it as soon as possible. I'm goin' down the road a piece an' will drap in on my way back," and as he passed out he looked back and added: "Thinkin' ought to make a man wise." The old man stood looking through the window, at Peters as he ambled along the road, and turning away he muttered, "Shot fo' an' stobbed three," his mind flying back to the story paper. Mrs. Mayfield, followed by Jim, came in from the kitchen, remarking, "we have been helping your wife but she has expelled us." "I don't reckon thar was very much help needed." He waited until she had sat down, and then coming slowly toward her he inquired: "Ma'm, air all the deputy marshals in the state under yo' brother, the Jedge?" "All in this district, I should think, are under the jurisdiction of his court." "I reckon the Jedge is putty hard on folks that makes what they call wild-cat liquor." "Extremely so, Mr. Starbuck. He sends them all to the penitentiary." "I don't reckon he knows that a man may make liquor and yit have some little jestice on his side." "My brother can see no justice in a violation of the law." The old man was silent for a few moments and then he asked: "Do he have the app'intment of the deputy marshals?" "I don't know as to that. I suppose, however, that the Marshal appoints his own deputies. Do you want someone appointed?" "Me? Oh, no," and walking off he added to himself: "It's someone I don't want app'inted. That's the question with me." Margaret came in and he inquired if dinner were nearly ready. "As soon as the co'n pone's done," she answered, and he swore that he was as hungry as a bear in the spring of the year. The old negro mammy came to the door and with a peculiar softness which ever characterized his voice when speaking to her, he bade her come in. "Set down," he said, bringing a chair for her. "You look monst'us tired. Now, jest rock yo'se'f thar an' putty soon you'll git rested." "Thank you, Mars Jasper. An' I hopes you's all well, bof in de flesh an' in de sight o' de Lawd." "Ah, mammy," said the old man, "you never forgit the Lawd, do you?" "How kin I, Mars Jasper, w'en I so close ter Him. An' Marster, dis is my birfday."