You needn't thank me, by the way. I wouldn't have troubled about you,
but I've a liking for horses."

"A jolly good thing it was for me that you came up at the instant. I
say, Revercomb, I'm sorry it was your brother I got into a row with this
morning."

"Oh, that's another score. We haven't settled it yet," retorted the
Miller, as he stepped into his gig. "You've warned us off your land, so
I'll trouble you to keep to the turnpike and avoid the bridle path that
passes my pasture."

Before Gay could reply, the other had whistled to his mare and was
spinning over the flat road into the star-spangled distance.

When the miller reached home and entered the kitchen, his mother's first
words related to the plight of Archie, who sat sullenly nursing his
bruised mouth in one corner.

"If you've got any of the Hawtrey blood in yo' veins you'll take
sides with the po' boy," she said. "Thar's Abner settin' over thar so
everlastin' mealy mouthed that he won't say nothin' mo' to the p'int
than that he knew all the time it would happen."

"Well, that's enough, ain't it?" growled Abner; "I did know it would
happen sure enough from the outset."

"Thar ain't any rousin' him," observed Sarah, with scorn. "I declar,
I believe pa over thar has got mo' sperit in him even if he does live
mostly on cornmeal mush."