"The gel's takin' her fling afore wedlock. I heard Sarah Ann Nanjulian,
just now, sayin' she ought to be clawed."

"A jealous woman is a scourge shaken to an' fro," said Old Zeb;
"but I've a mind, friends, to strike up 'Randy my dandy,' for that son
o' mine is lookin' blacker than the horned man, an' may be 'twill
comfort 'en to dance afore the public eye; for there's none can take his
wind in a hornpipe."

In fact, it was high time that somebody comforted Young Zeb, for his
heart was hot. He had brought home the chest of drawers in his cart,
and spent an hour fixing on the best position for it in the bedroom,
before dressing for the dance. Also he had purchased, in Mr. Pennyway's
shop, an armchair, in the worst taste, to be a pleasant surprise for
Ruby when the happy day came for installing her. Finding he had still
twenty minutes to spare after giving the last twitch to his neckerchief,
and the last brush to his anointed locks, he had sat down facing this
chair, and had striven to imagine her in it, darning his stockings.
Zeb was not, as a rule, imaginative, but love drew this delicious
picture for him. He picked up his hat, and set out for Sheba in the
best of tempers.

But at Sheba all had gone badly. Ruby's frock of white muslin and
Ruby's small sandal shoes were bewitching, but Ruby's mood passed his
intelligence. It was true she gave him half the dances, but then she
gave the other half to that accursed stranger, and the stranger had all
her smiles, which was carrying hospitality too far. Not a word had she
uttered to Zeb beyond the merest commonplaces; on the purchase of the
chest of drawers she had breathed no question; she hung listlessly on