“_Peleg!_” exclaimed Miss Cottle sharply. “You must have taken leave of your senses!” “No, ma’am, I ain’t. The Cap’n here’ll bear witness that I said you’d give me up. That’ll put a stop t’ the talk—ef the’ is any. You c’n tell ’em that. I won’t deny it. I c’n stan’ it.” A light as of tardy victory dawned in Miss Cottle’s eyes. “You won’t deny that we’ve been engaged to be married?” she said slowly. “No, ma’am; you c’n say anythin’ you’ve a mind to. It’s all the same t’ me, now ’t you’ve give me up. I feel turrible bad—all broke up; but I’m a-goin’ t’ stan’ it the best I kin. Religion ’ll help some, I guess. It gene’lly does. I’ll try it, anyhow.” “I might reconsider,” observed Miss Cottle, “before”—she added darkly—“the affair becomes public. I fear the notoriety will be very hard for you to bear, Peleg.” “It will, ma’am,” replied Peg with alacrity; “but I’m goin’ t’ try an’ endure it.” Miss Cottle meditatively stirred the onions with one foot clad substantially in rusty leather. “I shall hold you to the engagement which you have acknowledged,” she said firmly, “unless——” “What? Fer goodness sake don’t keep me on tenter-hooks, ma’am! W’y, say, you don’t want me! I ain’t fit t’ wipe m’ feet on your door-mat; you’ve said so lots o’ times; ain’t she, Cap’n? I’m an ornary cuss; more ornary ’n you hev any idee of; an’ I’m humbly’s a hedge-fence, ’n’—’n’ bad-tempered; m’ disposition’s somethin’ fierce. The Cap’n here c’n tell you that. W’y, land, I dunno but what I’d be drove to drink, ef I was t’ git married! I’ll bet I would. An’ what with my t’bacco—y’ know y’ hate that like pison, an’ m’——” “If my brother-in-law’s nephew should make you an offer for these onions, I feel that I ought to have a share in the proceeds,” said Miss Cottle, suddenly abandoning sentiment for business. “If we were to carry out our engagement of marriage, of course I should reasonably expect to profit by the arrangement.” “No, ma’am; you wouldn’t, not whilst I was alive. I’m downright stingy. That’s another thing I fergot t’ mention. Stingy? W’y, I’m closter ’n the bark t’ a tree. ’Nough sight closter, ’cause the bark’ll give when the tree grows. But not Peleg Morrison; no, ma’am! I’ll bet you wouldn’t git ’nough t’ eat, with me fer a pervider. An’ I’ve made up my mind long ago to leave ev’rythin’ I’ve got t’ the Cap’n here. M’ will’s all made. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you—a hunderd dollars cash, ef I sell the onions, ’n ef you——” “Make it two hundred, and I’ll agree to let you off. You couldn’t do me out of my widow’s third, anyway you’d fix it.” Peg stared at the determined spinster in silence for a long minute. Then with a muttered exclamation, he dashed out of the barn and disappeared. Miss Cottle’s eyes sparkled with animosity. “If I was to sue him for breach of promise, and I could do it, too, I guess he——”