And now let me tell you. I mout not look like it—like I'm hard to please, but I am. Thar ain't one woman out of a hundred that can make me wake up when I'm sleepy and think about her, but you can. And ever sense you was a child I've said I'd never marry till I could git you." He saw the anger in her eyes and hesitated. "Ah, you may not think very much of me now," he continued, "but that can all be changed. A woman's like a mornin' glory flower—always a changing; an' I know you could learn to love me."

"Oh, you do. Well, what you know and what's the truth won't never know each other well enough to shake hands."

Peters smiled upon her, "Wall, if nuthin' else did, that of itself would prove you air old Jasper's daughter."

Margaret Starbuck came in, with a pan of turnips. Peters bowed to her. "Er good mornin', ma'm."

She put the pan on the table and giving him an unconscious grace bade him good morning. "Is mammy done ironin'?" she asked, speaking to Lou.

"Yes'm, I reckon so." Then she added, speaking to Peters, "Is there anythin' else you wanted?"

"Why, Lou," Margaret spoke up, "is that the way to talk?"

"Yes'm, sometimes," and nodding at Peters she added: "And this is one of them." She laughed, turned away and sat down with her elbows resting on a battered old melodeon.

"Oh, she's jest a jokin' with me ma'm," said Peters. "I wanted to see yo' husband. Reckon he's out some whar on the place."

"I think so," Margaret replied, peeling the turnips. "I heard him calling the hogs just now."

Lou looked at Peters and said: "Then why don't you go?"

"Why, daughter," exclaimed Margaret, "you musn't talk that way. Mr. Peters is in yo' house."

She came forward and to the visitor bowed with mock humility. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Peters—"

"Oh, that's all right, Miss Lou."

"For bein' honest with you."

Peters cleared his throat. She returned to the melodeon and sat down with her back toward him. Peters started out but halted and spoke to Margaret. "Suthin' I have been workin' fur a long time is about to come—an app'intment I've been tryin' to git, and when I git it there air folks that ought to be skeered."

Lou glanced round at him and replied, "And then again, there are folks that won't be."

"Ah," said Peters, "an' them that won't be air them that ought to be." And then to Margaret he added: "If I don't find Jasper I'll be back. When he comes tell him I want to see him. Good day."

When he had gone out into the road Margaret inquired of her daughter what he had said to give such offense.

"He said I could learn to love him. And I as much as told him he was a liar."

"But, daughter, you musn't talk like that. You'll have to be more careful with him, for in some way he's got the upper hand of yo' father."

"Well, I don't envy him his job."

"Hush," said Margaret. "Here come the folks."

CHAPTER III.

GETTING ACQUAINTED.

In came Mrs. Mayfield and her nephew, with Jim, the preacher, following them. Margaret began industriously to dust a rocking chair. She bade them come in, if it were not too warm, "Mammy has been ironing but the fire's dyin' down. And I do hope she irons yo' clothes to suit you, Miz Mayfield," she added.

"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Mayfield, glancing round at the preacher who with hat in hand sat on the melodeon stool, gazing at her. "I am not hard to please," she continued, speaking to Margaret. "I have passed that stage."

Margaret bowed to her. "Well, I'm mighty glad to hear it. So many folks are hard to please. There come a