Miss Malroy's cheeks had become very red, and Mrs. Ferris refused
to meet her eye, while the children were in a flutter of pleased
expectancy. They felt the wholly contemporary interest of
Yancy's story; he was dealing with forms of speech which
prevailed and were usually provocative of consequences more or
less serious. He gave them a wide, sunny smile.

"When Dave Blount called me that, I struck out fo' home." At
this surprising turn in the narrative the children looked their
disgust, and Mrs. Ferris shot Betty a triumphant glance. "Yes,
ma'am, I struck out across the fields fo' home, I didn't wish to
hear no mo' of that loose kind of talk. When I got home I found
my old daddy setting up afo' the fire, and he says, 'You come
away early, son.' I told him what Dave Blount had called me and
he says, 'You acted like a gentleman, Bob, with all them
womenfolks about."'

"You had a very good and sensible father, Mr. Yancy. How much
better than if--" began Mrs. Ferris, who feared that the moral
might elude him.

"Yes, ma'am, but along about day he come into the loft where I
was sleeping and says to me, 'Sun-up, Bob--time fo' you to haul
on yo' pants and go back yonder and fetch that Dave Blount a
smack in the jaw.'" Mrs. Ferris moved uneasily in her chair: "I
dressed and come here, but when I asked fo' Dave he wouldn't step
outside, so I just lost patience with his foolishness and took a
crack at him standing where I'm standing now, but he ducked and
you can still see, ma'am"--turning to the embarrassed Mrs.
Ferris--"where my knuckles made a dint in the door-jamb. I got