“Somebody _will tell her_,” said Suggs, “I’m going home with you as soon as you’ve had breakfast. My poor Sally Rugby shall not be trampled on in this way. I’ve only got to borrow fifty dollars from some of the boys, to make out a couple of thousand. I need to make the last payment on my land. So go over and eat your breakfast quick.” “For God’s sake, Sir, don’t tell Sally about it; you don’t know how unreasonable she is.” Pullum was the incarnation of misery. “The divil I don’t! she bit this piece out of my face,” here Suggs pointed to a scar on his cheek, “when I had her on my lap a little girl only five years old. She was always game.” Pullum grew more nervous at this reference to his wife’s mettle. “My dear Sir, I don’t even know your name.” “Suggs, Sir—Captain Simon Suggs.” “Well, my dear Captain, ef you’ll just let me off this time, I’ll lend you the fifty dollars.” “_You’ll—lend—me—the—fifty—dollars!_ _Who_ asked _you_ for your money, or rather _Sally’s_ money?” “I only thought,” replied the humble husband of Sally, “that it might be an accommodation. I meant no harm; I know Sally wouldn’t mind my lending it to an old friend of the family.” “Well,” said Suggs, and here he mused, shutting his eyes, biting his lips, and talking very slowly, “ef I knowed you would do better.” “I’ll swear I will,” said Pullum. “No swearin’, Sir!” roared Suggs, with a dreadful frown; “no swearin’ in _my_ presence!” “No, Sir, I won’t any more.” “Ef,” continued the Captain, “I _knowed_ you’d do better—_go right home_,” (the Captain didn’t wish Pullum to stay where his stock of information might be increased); “and treat Sally like a wife all the rest of your days, I might, _may be_, borrow the fifty, (seein’ it’s Sally’s any way), and let you off this time.” “Ef you will, Captain Suggs, I’ll never forget you; I’ll think of you all the days of my life.” “I ginnarally makes my mark, so that I’m hard to forget,” said the Captain, _truthfully_. “Well, turn me over a fifty for a couple of months, and go home.” Mr. Pullum handed the money to Suggs, who seemed to receive it reluctantly. He twisted the bill in his fingers, and remarked: “I reckon I’d better not take this money; you won’t go home, and do as you said.” “Yes, I will,” said Pullum; “yonder’s my horse at the door. I’ll start this minute.” The Captain and Pullum returned to the tavern, where the latter swallowed his coffee and paid his bill. As the young man mounted his horse, Suggs took him affectionately by the hand. “John,” said he, “go home, give my love to cousin Sally, and kiss her for me. Try and do better, John, for the futur’; and ef you have any children, John, bring ’em up in the way of the Lord. Good-bye!” Captain Suggs now paid _his_ bill, and had a balance on hand. He immediately bestrode his faithful “Bill,” musing thus as he moved homeward: