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Them passuls of cat's meat that they call sailormen in these days has to be handled, well, the superintendent of a Sunday-school wouldn't be fit for the job, unless he had a little special trainin'." Louada Murilla, the point of her pencil at her lips, caught a vindictive gleam in his eyes. "But it seems awful cruel, some of the things that you you I suppose you had to do 'em, Aaron!
This town won't get a chance to yoke me up with your brother Gid and point us out as a steer team named 'Down and Out! He's 'Down' but I ain't 'Out' yet, not by a dam excuse me, Louada Murilla! But I've been mixin' into politics and talkin' political talk." "And I had so hoped you were out of it," she sighed, as she followed him to their repose.
"It was all a matter of discipline. But you can't prove it to land-sharks. If they git me into their clutches I'm a goner." His pistols hung on the wall where Louada Murilla had suspended them, draped with the ribbons of peace. "There's only one thing to do," he whispered, huskily, pointing at the weapons with quivering finger. "I'll shoot 'em in the legs, jest to hold 'em up.
"'Fore the constables got to him, the boys took holt and throwed him out of the window. I reckon he's come to a realizin' sense by this time that the town don't want him for selectman." He rapped out the ashes and put the pipe on the hearth of the Franklin. "I'm fair about an enemy, Louada Murilla, and I kind of hate to rub it into Gideon.
He even told Louada Murilla that she was a darling, when she, who had been forewarned, produced a "treat" from a hiding-place in the cellar. "I knew you'd appreciate it all as soon as you got wonted to the honor, Aaron," she whispered, happy tears in her eyes. "It's the social prominence that's all there is to it.
Cap'n Sproul looked around on the peace of his home, and some deep feeling seemed to surge in his soul. "Louada Murilla," he said, sadly, "this isn't anything to be written in the book, and I didn't ever mean to speak of it to you. But there are times when a man jest has to talk about things, and he can't help it. There was one thing that I've been sorry for.
What are you talkin' about? Why, Louada Murilla, I never even knowed what the Portygee's name was, except that I called him Joe. A skipper don't lo'd his mem'ry with that sculch any more'n he'd try to find names for the hens in the deck-coop. "I made a mistake," he continued, after a time, "in not havin' it cleaned up, decks washed, and everything clewed snug at the time of it.
When he hove in sight of his own house he saw Louada Murilla on the porch, gazing off at the smoke of the fire and evidently luxuriating in the consciousness that it was her husband who was that day leading the gallant forces of the Ancients. As he stared wildly, home seemed his haven and the old house his rock of safety.
I'll git to salt water. I know skippers that will take me aboard, even if they have to stand off the whole United States. I've got friends, Louada, as soon as I git to tide-water. It won't hurt 'em in there a bullet in the leg. And it's life and death for me. There's foreign countries where they can't take me up. I know 'em, I've been there. And I'll send for you, Louada Murilla.
"Yes, s'r, it was a speech, Louada Murilla," he declared that evening, as he sat again in their sitting-room with his stockinged feet to the blaze of the Franklin. "I walked that platform like it was a quarter-deck, and my line of talk run jest as free as a britches-buoy coil. And when I got done, they was up on the settees howlin' for me.
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