“Would so; dat dar’s _jest_ wat I mean, an it’s wat’d zactly suit dis yer ole man, an no mistake now--would so.” “Well,” said Bart, sympathetically, “it’s not a bad place just now, as long as the weather’s fine, though how it might be in case of a blow, I confess I have my suspicions.” “O, you nebber mind de blow. Dar’s blows dat are a heap wuss dan de wind. How would you like blows on yer head, an backbone, an ribs, from a broomstick, or a shobbel, or a stick ob cord-wood, or a red-hot iron poker? Dem’s blows as is blows, mind I tell you! Tell you what, when you come to git blows, like dat ar, you’ll begin to hab a realizin sense ob what blows is possible for to be.” “Why, Solomon, how very feelingly you speak!” “Feelinly! Ony wait till you’ve felt ober your head an shoulders what she’s giben me.” “She? Who?” Solomon gave a groan. “You know her. You--saw her at Loch--Lomond.” “What, your wife! O, I understand;” and a light began to dawn upon Bart. Solomon shuddered. The remembrance was too much for him. “Dis yer’s de fust time I’ve felt real safe for ebber so long; and here I am real safe. She can’t git at me here no how. She can’t imagine where I am no how.” “Pooh! nonsense, Solomon! Haven’t you been safe enough ever since you left St. John?” “No, sah! Safe! Why, dar’s not a moment ob de day dat I don’t fancy dat ar woman’s arter me--on my back. I knows it. Tell you what, she’s a comin to fetch me. I knows it. I feel it in my bones, and dat ar’s a feelin dat’s wuss dan de rheumatics. ’Tis so!” “But what a rdiculous fancy!” said Bart. “Do you really mean to say that you believe she will come after you?” “Do so. No doubt bout dat ar, Mas’r Bart. She’s a comin jest as shuah’s you’re born. An I habn’t felt real safe’ till now. Here I’m all right.” “But suppose she does come?” “Wal, s’pposin.” “What can she do to you?” “Do! Lots ob tings. She can come and lib whar I lib, an hamma away all day an all night on my ole head wid broomsticks an pokers.” “But what makes you let her?” “Let her? Wat can I do bout it?” “Why, the law’ll protect you.” “Be law sakes, chile! Don’t you know de law can’t ’tect husbands agin wives? It’ll only ’tect wives agin husbands. My pinion is, dat de law’s clean in fabor ob de women, an de men hain’t got no chance--not a mite.” At this new view of the law Bart was somewhat nonplussed. “O, well,” said he, “I don’t believe she’ll ever trouble you again. You’ll go back to the academy, and Dr. Porter’ll take care of you.” Solomon shook his head. “Tell you what,” said he; “fifty millium Docta Porta’s couldn’t do anythin agin dat ar woman if she come to fetch me. De ’cadmy ain’t no place for me. Don’t think you’ll eber catch me back dar. Ise boun to be a rober; an I’ll sail de sea, so as to prebent her from eber a gittin on my track.” “O, nonsense!” said Bart. “You’ll come with us, and it’ll be all right.” Solomon shook his head, and relapsed into silence.