"I've brought your book, Melindy," said I.

"Thank you, sir," returned she, crisply.

"How pretty you look to-day." condescendingly remarked I.

"I don't thank you for that, sir;--


"'Praise to the face
Is open disgrace!'"


was all the response.

"Why, Melindy! what makes you so cross?" inquired I, in a tone meant
to be tenderly reproachful,--in the mean time attempting to possess
myself of her hand; for, to be honest, Polder, I had been a little
sweet to the girl before Kate drove her out of my head. The hand was
snatched away. I tried indifference.

"How are the turkeys to-day. Melindy?"

Here Joe, an _enfant terrible,_ came upon the scene suddenly.

"Them turkeys eats a lot, Mister Greene. Melindy says there's one on
'em struts jes' like you, 'n' makes as much gabble."

"Gobble! gobble! gobble!" echoed an old turkey from somewhere; I