John. It’s no use argifying, Ned. It can’t be; it shan’t be. Mary gin her promise to Henry Douglas more than a year ago, an’ she’s got to stick tew it. I ain’t a goin’ to have no flirts about me.

Ned. But she does not love him, sir; she is truly attached to me. You surely would not have her break her heart.

John. Better break it than break her promise, and break his heart.

Ned. There is no fear of breaking his; he has none. He is unworthy of her.

John. Now, Ned, don’t be mean. Don’t speak ill of a man because he is likely to win where you may lose.

Ned. I speak the truth. Mary has told him she did not love him, and asked him to release her. He refused. He’s a mean, contemptible sneak, unworthy any woman’s love. That one act stamps him so.

John. Now stop. That’s enough. I know Henry Douglas better than you. He has been a good friend to me, and I won’t have him abused. When, a year ago, I emptied the little brown jug of my savings, and found, to my surprise, a handsome sum, he showed me a grand chance for a safe investment. I took his advice, and doubled my money in a month. He helped me to other investments.

Ned. I know. Some of them paid and some didn’t. The balance is on the wrong side, for your money has vanished, and there’s a mortgage of a thousand dollars on your property, which he holds. Pretty friend he!

John. Well, what of it? Them as win must expect to lose sometimes. It’s no use your talkin’ agin him. He’s smart, and he’ll help me out, with a handsome profit, when the time comes right.

Ned. And for his sake you refuse to let Mary marry the man of her choice?

John. He was the man of her choice. I’m only a givin’ him justice. Now look a-here, Ned; let’s have no more of this. I think a heap of you. You’re a smart workman; and I’d like to see you married. Mary’s already engaged. (Rises.) Think no more of her. If you want a smart wife,

Enter Jarius, C.

take Sally Peeslee. She’s a bouncer. (Exit, L.)

Jarius. (Aside.) Jes’ so. Guess I didn’t come back any tew soon. (Aloud.) Ned!

Ned. (Turning, sees Jarius.) Jarius Jordan!

Jarius. Jes’ so. Heow air yer, young feller? (Shake hands.) And heow’s everybody?

Ned. Glad to see you once more. It must be a year since you were here.

Jarius. Jes’ so; a year to-day. Folks all well?

Ned. Yes—no; Mother Nutter is poorly; the rest are hearty.

Jarius. Sally Peeslee smart—hey? By the by, didn’t I hear John Nutter say somethin’ about your makin’ up to her?

Ned. You need fear no rival in me, Mr. Jordan.

Jarius. Jes’ so. Expected you and Mary would have made a match. P’raps you have.

Ned. No. We are warmly attached; but Mr. Nutter will not hear of our marrying. He wants to give her to Henry Douglas.

Jarius. The old fool! Nothin’ personal in that remark. But he’s wus than a nine-days’-old pup—hain’t got his eyes open. Wal, what air ye goin’ to do ’bout it—give her up?

Ned. Never! I scarcely know what to do. Douglas has almost ruined the old man with speculation. Everything is mortgaged to him; and if Mary does not marry him, he will turn them out of their home.

Jarius. Sho! How much is the mortgage?

Ned. A thousand dollars.

Jarius. Wal, don’t yeou fret, young feller. I’ll see yeou through. I’ve got a bone to pick with that air chap; and, keen as he thinks himself, he’s got to git up airly if he gits ahead of Jarius Jordan. Hullo, here’s Mary!

Enter Mary, R.

Mary. Well, Ned, what does he say?—Why, Mr. Jordan!

Jarius. Jes’ so. Heow d’ye do? (Shake hands.) Prettier than ever, I declare!

Mary. This is an unexpected pleasure. We haven’t seen you for a long time.

Jarius. Jes’ so. But Ned don’t say what he said.

Ned. He refused me, Mary. He says you must keep your promise to Douglas.

Mary. Never. I’ll die first.

Jarius. Jes’ so. Good grit. Neow, young folks, I always was famous for meddlin’; and I’m goin’ to help you in this matter, if you’ll let me. Douglas has a hold on the old gent with a mortgage. I understand that. Anything else?

Mary. He holds a check, which he declares was forged, his name used, and the money drawn from the bank by Will. This he has threatened to use against my brother.

Jarius. Jes’ so. A forged check? That’s an old trick. You don’t happen to know what bank it was drawn on—do you?

Mary. He told me. Let me think a moment. The Phoenix Bank.

Jarius. The Phoenix? Sho! I’ve got him! (Goes, to table, takes a tablet from his pocket, and writes with a pencil.) Neow, then, young feller, I want to use yer. If yeou want Mary, jest put on your hat, and leg it to the telegraph office. Here’s a message; put it through, and wait for an answer. (Tears out leaf, and gives it to Ned.)

Ned. But what does this mean?

Jarius. Business. Don’t ask any questions; but go. If yeou git the answer I expect, I’ll eucre Douglas in spite of thunder.

Ned. Will you? Then I’m off.—Will you go, Mary?

Jarius. No; Mary will stay here. Where’s your politeness? Ain’t I company?

Ned. All right, Mr. Jordan. I’m off. (Exit, C.)

Jarius. Well, Mary, heow’s yer marm?

Mary. She’s very sick, Mr. Jordan. She keeps her room most of the time. My brother’s conduct, my father’s wild speculations, and the persistent wooing of Henry Douglas,—whom she detests,—have made her very miserable.

Jarius. Jes’ so. Wal, we’ll see if we can’t doctor her up. Now, Mary, the next time Douglas comes here don’t you be mealy-mouthed. Let him have it right and left. Tell him jest what you think of him, and defy him to do his worst.

Mary. I dare not. He is wicked enough to crush father with the mortgage he holds, and mean enough to kill mother by disclosing Will’s connection with the forged check.

Jarius. Let him do his worst, Mary. He’s a crafty chap, a-schemin to snare the old man and get your hand; but there’s a weak p’int somewhere in his net, and if I can find it I’ll holler.

Mary. I’ll obey you, Mr. Jordan. Only put an end to this terrible persecution, and you will make me happy.

Jarius. Jes’ so. Hullo! there’s Sally. Now I’ve got something particular to say to her, and if you don’t mind taking a hasty leave, I’ll be obliged to ye.

Mary. O, certainly. Ahem! Mr. Jordan, you’re sure you have the courage to speak now?

Jarius. Neow yeou git eout! Want to make a feller feel cheap—don’t yeou?

Mary. Ha, ha! Mr. Jordan, you’ve a brave heart, but you dare not ask her. See if I am not right. Good by. (Exit, R.)

Jarius. Darsn’t ask Sally to be my wife? Don’t think I’m such a blarsted fool neow. Arter staying away a year, guess I’ve about screwed my courage up to do it, or bust.

Sally. (Outside, L.) Mary, Mary! Where on airth is them mangoes? (Enter, L.)

Jarius. Dunno, Sally. Here’s a man come.

Sally. Jarius Jerden! Wal, I never! How d’ye do?

Jarius. Purty well, Sally. (Shake hands.) Sally, you are a bouncer, and no mistake!

Sally. Where yeou been this long while? Come back for good?

Jarius. Wal, that depends. Sally, yeou dew look jest about good enough to eat.

Sally. Do I? (Aside.) Law sakes; how his eyes blaze! I believe he’s going to pop. (Aloud.) I’m making pickles.

Jarius. Making pickles? (Aside.) She’s pickled me, long ago.

Sally. Yes; and I want the mangoes. Somebody’s hid ’em. I must find Mary. (Crosses to R.)

Jarius. Don’t go, Sally; I want to speak to yeou. If you leave me neow, I won’t answer for the consequences.

Sally. (Aside.) O, dear; I’m afraid of him! (Aloud.) What is it, Mr. Jerden? (Edging off, R.)

Jarius. (Aside.) How skeery she is! Wonder what’s the matter! (Aloud.) Sally, I’m goin’ to do somethin’ desperate, for the sight of yeou has set me on fire. I feel—I feel that the hour has come—

Sally. (Aside.) I can’t bear it. (Aloud.) Dear me; this place hain’t been dusted to-day. (Takes her apron, and runs about dusting table, chair, and lounge.)

Jarius. (Aside.) I swow, she’s skeered! All right, Jarius; now’s yer chance. (Runs after Sally; brings her down, C.) Sally, it’s no use; yeou must hear me. Sally, do yeou know what it is to be in—in—in—love?

Sally. (Aside.) He’s going to pop! (Aloud.) O, them plants! (Runs up, L. C.) They haven’t been watered to-day.

Jarius. (Aside.) How she does carry on! (Runs after her, and brings her down, C.) Now look a-here, Sally; it’s no use. You’ll spile everything.

Sally. O, my pickles! they’ll spile! Do let me go, Mr. Jerden.

Jarius. (Putting his arm round her waist.) Let ’em spile! I’ve got yeou fast, Sally, and I’m going to try and keep yeou for ever and ever.

Sally. (Struggling to get away.) Mr. Jerden, I’m ashamed of you.

Jarius. I’m ashamed of myself, Sally. To think I’ve been so mealy-mouthed! What bright eyes you’ve got! and rosy cheeks! and such a mouth! I declare, I must have a kiss!

Sally. Don’t yeou dew it, Mr. Jerden.

Jarius. I can’t help it, Sally. I never saw a sugar bowl but what I wanted to git my fingers into it, or a ’lasses barrel but what I wanted to lick it. And a mouth like yours!—Jehu, don’t stop me! (Kisses her.)

Enter Douglas, C.

Douglas. Aha! (Sally screams, and runs off, L.)

Jarius. Jes’ so. Aha, yerself, and see heow yeou like it.

Douglas. Jarius Jordan! You back again?

Jarius. Jes’ so, and likely to stop a spell.

Douglas. I should judge so from the warm welcome you have just received. Is the day fixed—hey?

Jarius. Wal, not exactly. I’m kinder waitin’ for you and Mary. Is the day fixed—hey?

Douglas. Ha! You are sarcastic. They tell me you have made a great deal of money, Jordan.

Jarius. Wal, I ain’t as poor as a church mouse.

Douglas. That’s good. Our old friend Nutter has got into difficulties; wants money. Now you are just the chap to help him.

Jarius. Guess not. I don’t throw my money away for nothin’. What I git I keep.

Douglas. (Aside.) Good. No fear of him. (Aloud.) That’s right. Don’t let him wheedle you out of it; for, between you and me, he’s a ruined man.

Jarius. Jes’ so. He’s a good old chap; but I’ve heard he’s been speculatin’, and is bound to end in the poorhouse. Wal, they’ve got a purty good one here, and’ll make him comfortable. Here comes his darter. I won’t spile your fun as you did mine. I’ve got a heap of business to attend tew. Good day. (Aside.) Darn your ugly picter, your day is fixed. (Exit, C.)

Douglas. Rich and mean. All the better for me; he will not mar my project; and to-day I will give Mary my ultimatum—her hand, or her father’s ruin.

Enter Mary, R.

Ah, Mary, you are looking finely to-day!

Mary. Thank you, Mr. Douglas. Father is at home. I will call him. (Crosses to L.)

Douglas. No. By your leave, I would have a word with you.

Mary. Certainly, if you wish it. (Sits in chair L. of table.)

Douglas. (Brings chair down C., and sits.) Mary, I have come to-day to revive a topic upon which I have been silent a year.

Mary. You come again to ask me to marry you. I have been expecting this visit.

Douglas. And you are prepared with an answer?

Mary. I am.

Douglas. Stop one moment, Mary. Before you give me that answer, hear me. You must believe that I love you. This long year, during which I have been almost a constant visitor, looking upon you with wistful eyes, yet with a silent tongue, for fear of your displeasure, coming and going, must be convincing proof that, spite of your coldness, your image is enshrined within my heart.

Mary. Mr. Douglas, the man who truly loves a woman shows his devotion by making her happy, even at the cost of his own happiness.

Douglas. You’re right, Mary. ’Tis your happiness I seek when I ask you to become my wife. I would not see you throw yourself away upon a poor man, when I have the power to surround you with every comfort, and a heart overflowing with love, that cannot fail to make you happy.

Mary. Enough. You and I can never agree. My answer a year ago was final.

Douglas. Pray reconsider it. If not for my sake, for that of your father.

Mary. Whom you have persistently wooed for the last year. What of him?

Douglas. He has met with reverse of fortune. He is now a poor man, so poor that, but for my friendly aid, he would have no home to shelter him.

Mary. (Rising.) Your friendly aid! ’Twas you who led him into speculation; you who, by crafty advice, swept away his little store of hard-earned savings; you, who now stand over his home ready to crush it if I, his daughter, dare refuse you my hand!

Douglas. Nay, Mary, you are harsh. Calm yourself. Out of my deep love for you I have endeavored to better his worldly condition. If I have failed in my designs—

Mary. You have failed, Henry Douglas. My father is in your power, ’tis true. You can at any moment drive him from his home. In that design you have triumphed. But beyond that you have miserably failed. Though my father should curse me, should drive me from my home for my disobedience, I will never marry you—never!

Douglas. Ah, you’ll think better of it, Mary. I have spent a great deal of money to help him. He owes me a large sum. With you my wife, I could not be hard with him. Without you, I must deal with him justly, man to man, and claim my own.

Mary. Claim it at once. Drive us forth, for then comes my triumph. There’s a brave, true man waiting for me. Already we have planned a new home, where my parents will be tenderly cared for, and two loving hearts and four willing hands will rebuild all your craft has destroyed. Ay, Henry Douglas, do your worst! You are a villain, and I hate and defy you!

Douglas. (Rising.) Enough. Mary Nutter, I will take you at your word. I will do my worst. You have turned all my love to hate. I’ll woo no more. But, mark me, your father shall be driven from his home; your lover—curse him!—shall be shot like a dog, though I hang for it!

Hannah. (Outside, L.) Mary, dear! Mary!

Douglas. Hark! There’s the voice of one very, very dear to you. You have defied me, Mary. I’ll strike my first blow there.

Mary. My mother! No, no. You would not be so cruel. Spare her, I entreat you!

Douglas. No, no. You are too late.

Enter Hannah, feebly, R., in a white wrapper.

Hannah. Mary, Mary, dear! don’t you hear me?

Mary. (Running to her, and leading her to lounge.) Yes, mother; I was just coming. Why did you leave your room?

Hannah. It was so lonesome there, Mary, dear; and, you know, to-day is Will’s birthday. Yes, to-day he is a man. And I have felt all day that I should see him; that to-day he would think of his poor mother, and find the way home to her.

Mary. Yes, mother, it is his birthday; but he is far, far away.

Hannah. Yes; but not too far away to reach his mother. I remember, as though it were but yesterday, when he was twelve years old. What a bright, noble boy he was! He came to my side, put his arms about my neck, and said, “Mother, I shall soon be a man!” Dear boy, he was a brave little man then. “And when I am a man, the first thing I shall do will be to run to you and kiss you, and thank you for making me a good, true man.” Dear boy! and I haven’t seen him for two years! and he don’t write to me; and you all look strange when I ask for him. But he’ll come to-day, I know he will, for he promised; and he never broke a promise he gave his mother—never.

Douglas. Ah, it’s shameful, shameful that a boy with so good a mother should turn out so bad!

Mary. (To Douglas.) Hush! For Heaven’s sake be merciful!

Hannah. What’s that! Who spoke? Who said my boy turned out bad?

Mary. Nobody, mother. Don’t mind that man. He’s deceived himself. It’s Henry Douglas.

Hannah. Henry Douglas? What does he know about my Will?

Douglas. Too much. He has deceived me. I thought him a true, noble boy; but he robbed me.

Enter Jarius, C.

Jarius. (Aside.) Jes’ so. He’s got to work. Where on airth is that Ned?

Hannah. Robbed you! My Will? ’Tis false!

Douglas. I’m sorry to say ’tis true.

Mary. Mr. Douglas, have you no pity?

Douglas. You would have it so, Mary. I am not to blame.

Jarius. (Aside.) Consarn it, why don’t that boy come. (He fidgets in the doorway, looking off, and then watching Douglas.)

Douglas. Yes, Mrs. Nutter; I am sorry to distress you; but ’tis best you know the truth. While in my employ, Will robbed me of two hundred dollars.

Hannah. No, no; you are mistaken. My boy, my noble boy! I’ll not believe it.

Jarius. (Aside.) Consarn his ugly picter! I shall split! Where is that boy?

Douglas. Yes, he robbed me; forged my name to a check. ’Tis here. (Showing check.)

Hannah. O, Heavens! My boy! my boy!

Douglas. Drew the money from the bank—

(Ned appears, C. Gives Jarius a telegram.)

Mary. Villain, you are killing her.—Mother, ’tis false! ’tis false!

Douglas. ’Tis true. I can prove it.

Jarius. (Coming down C., with telegram.) Jes’ so. (Snatches the check.) Phoenix Bank: two hundred dollars. Humbug! that’s no forgery.

Douglas. No forgery? Is not that my name?

Jarius. Jes’ so. But here’s a little telegram from the Phoenix Bank. (Reads.) “Have examined the books. Henry Douglas never had funds in our bank.”

Douglas. Fool! what business have you to meddle in this matter?

Jarius. Why, bless your soul, I’m one of the directors in that air Phoenix.

Douglas. Confusion!

Jarius. Jes’ so. Mrs. Nutter, don’t be scart. Will’s all right on that p’int.

Hannah. I knew he was. Poor boy, he has enemies who would rob him of his good name.

Jarius. Jes’ so. But this ere sneak didn’t make much of a speck when he tried it on. Mr. Douglas, I’d git eout if I was in yeour place.

Douglas. Mr. Jarius Jordan, your bare assertion that you are a director in this bank will not serve. I still hold my charge of forgery against Will Nutter.

Jarius. Jes’ so. Well, you hold it. It won’t hurt anybody if it goes off; but I’m inclined to think it’ll kick like thunder.

Enter John, L.

John. Ah, Douglas! I’ve been up to see you. I’m all anxiety to hear from the Carom stock. Has it gone up?

Douglas. No; but the mine has.

John. Gracious Heaven! Then I am ruined! (Sinks into chair L. of table, and buries his face in his hands.)

Douglas. Yes, old man, you’ve nothing left but your house and shop; and they must go to repay me.

John. What! You will not close on me?

Douglas. I must. I want the money.

John. Why, you told me you would wait; that when you married Mary you would give it up. Won’t you wait?

Douglas. No; that would be too long.

Mary. I shall never marry him, father.

John. But you must—you shall. I’ll have no disobedience.

Hannah. Father, father, Mary is a good girl. Don’t speak of disobedience.

John. She shall marry Henry Douglas.

Douglas. Never, John Nutter! I would not marry your daughter were she at my feet entreating me to take her to my arms. (Folds his arms.) She’s not my style.

John. What, you miserable whelp! Do you know where you are—who you are speaking to? You have entreated me to give her to you; you have begged me to exert my power, and drive her to your arms; and, now that you have me in your power, you dare to insult her! Villain, I’ll strangle you! (Rushes at Douglas.)

Jarius. (Rushing between.) Hold on. Keep cool, Mr. Nutter.

Douglas. I want nothing that belongs to you, old man, but my money; that I will have. Pay me one thousand dollars, or I take immediate possession of your property.

John. O, I am justly served! I listened to your voice, embarked in speculation, turned against my daughter’s love, and now, in my old age, must wander forth without a home.

Douglas. It’s rather hard. Keep the home, and pay the money. It’s easy enough.

Jarius. Jes’ so. Pay the money, and let the sneak go.

John. How can I? I haven’t a cent in the world.

Jarius. Jes’ so. Where’s the little brown jug?

Mary. Alas, that is empty!

Jarius. Sho! Let’s have a look at it.

John. ’Tis useless. I haven’t put a copper into it for a year. Everything has gone to that villain.

Jarius. Jes’ so. Let’s see the jug for old acquaintance’ sake. (Exit, Mary, L.) It’s a bad thing to give up putting away a little somethin’ for a rainy day, ain’t it, Mrs. Nutter?

Hannah. Yes. John always did save until that Henry Douglas showed him how to spend.

Jarius. Jes’ so. It’s a great pity. I could tell you a story about a boy I knowed.

Hannah. A boy! What boy?

Jarius. Why, how bright you are looking, Mrs. Nutter! Guess you feel better.

Douglas. Well, is my money coming?

Jarius. Hold on. Don’t git into a sweat. I want to tell yer about that air boy. Yer see, about a year ago I came across a poor chap, who’d run down hill awful fast; he’d got into temptation, and tripped. A good deal like your boy, Mrs. Nutter.

Hannah. My Will? He was a good boy. He’s a man to-day.

Jarius. Jes’ so. Wal, this here chap wanted work. He was as penitent as could be; so I set him to work among agricultural implements, as a sort of salesman, paid him fair wages, and a smarter chap you never see. I noticed he never spent much, and so one day I asked him what he did with his savings. He didn’t like to tell at first; but arter a while he told me that his daddy had a kind of saving-up place—a sugar-bowl, or a coffee-pot, or a jug, somewhere, and he used to walk off every Saturday night ten miles, creep into the house, and put it away in the old ju—savings bank. Wal, I had a reapin’ machine that I had a patent onto, that I thought a heap on; but, somehow, it wouldn’t work. When they got the horses in, and a boy on top of it, and started the thing off, for a little while ’twould go first rate; when, all at once, there’d be a h’ist and spill, and machine, and horse, and boy would all be mixed up in a heap. It was a bust. Wal, that air boy would look, and look, and look at that machine, and one day he says to me, “I’ve found what’s the matter.” And I’ll be hanged if he hadn’t. I was so tickled that I jest drew my check for a thousand dollars, and made him a present of it; and I’ll be bound that air check is in the old gentleman’s little brown jug.

Mary. (Outside.) O, father! mother! (Runs in, L., with jug, followed by Sally.) The jug! the jug! It’s heaped full of bank notes. (Emptying it upon table.)

Sally. Heaps and heaps!

John. Bank notes, and—What’s this? (Takes up check.) A check! “Pay to William Nutter, or order, one thousand dollars.” Signed, “Jarius Jordan.” Jordan, is this your work?

Jarius. Look at the back.

John. (Reads.) “William Nutter.” My son!

Hannah. Our Will! My boy! O, Jarius Jordan! what does this mean?

Jarius. It means glory! Halleluyah! Fourth of July! Kingdom come! It’s a grand emancipation jubilee. The boy I’ve been telling you about is the same boy that villain, Henry Douglas, led into temptation, whom he charged with forgery, whom I took in hand, set straight, and who to-day is a man indeed—your son Will, Mrs. Nutter.

Hannah. I know it, I know it. He’s saved us, he’s saved us! O, where is he? Where is my boy?

Enter Will, C.

Will. Here, mother, here’s your own boy again.

Hannah. (Screams.) O, Will! Will! I knew you’d come! I knew you’d come! (Runs into his arms.)

John. Will, welcome home! (Takes his hand.) Everything is forgotten and forgiven. I’m proud to welcome my son home again.

Will. Home, father, spite of the craft of that man whom I once called friend. It is ours still.—Mary, sister!

Mary. Dear, dear Will, a thousand times welcome! (Clasps his hand.)

Will. Ah, sister, I have missed you all. Thank Heaven, I am once more able to meet you without a blush of shame.

Ned. Here’s your old chum, Will; can you spare a hand for him?

Will. (Giving both hands to Ned. Mary leads her mother to lounge.) Ah, Ned, you have much to forgive. That cruel blow with the little brown jug!

Ned. Don’t speak of it. You don’t know how much good it did me. Does he, Mary?

Jarius. Jes’ so. If it did you any good, give the credit where it belongs—to Henry Douglas, for he struck the blow.

Douglas. ’Tis false.

Jarius. It’s the truth, for I saw the act. I didn’t tell on it, for I wanted a p’int agin Douglas. To-morrow I shall make a charge of assault with intent to kill. It’s hung two years, but I guess it’s strong enough to do some execution.

Douglas. You have no witnesses. Your charge will fall to the ground, Mr. Jarius Jordan. You have outwitted me, but you must confess I have plotted safely. There’s not a point you’ve found to convict me of crime. You are rather keen. Try it. If I have failed in my attempt to ruin the family of the renowned shoemaker, John Nutter, I have still the satisfaction of retiring from the field with a very handsome profit in the shape of your check for a thousand dollars, which I shall expect to receive before night. Good day, all. Nutter, I leave you to join the hands of your daughter and her accomplished lover. Give them your blessing, and send me a card. (At door.) Ha, ha, farewell to Cobbler’s Paradise! (Exit, C.)

Sally. (Runs up to door.) Good riddance to bad rubbish.

Jarius. Sally, Sally, don’t do that. (Runs after her, and brings her down C.)

Sally. Jarius Jerden, if there’s a Yankee angel, you’re the critter.

Jarius. Sally, I want to ask you—that is—I’m going to—Consarn it! Sally, will you marry me? Phew! it’s out at last!

Sally. Of course I will. I would five years ago, if you’d only had the spunk to ask me.

Jarius. Jes’ so. I’ve been a donkey. But them words did stick in my wizzen awful.

Hannah. (Rising.) Law sakes, Mary, don’t try to keep me on this sofa. I ain’t a bit sick. I’m just as well as you are; and if I don’t dance at your weddin’, it’ll be because I hain’t got a partner.

Will. You shall not want for partners, mother. I claim the privilege of opening the ball with you.

Hannah. And you shall, Will. Law, my! how handsome you have grown!

John. Hasn’t he, mother! This is a proud day for us.

Hannah. Yes, indeed; for Will’s a man to-day.

Will. And, if I am, I owe it all to one who, in the dark hour, took me by the hand and led me into the light. Ah, many a poor boy who has been led into temptation might be saved from a miserable life if a friendly hand were stretched forth, and a warning word kindly given, as they were to me by Jarius Jordan—Heaven bless him!

Hannah. Ay, Heaven bless you, Jarius. You have made a mother’s heart happy in the gift of her boy, reclaimed from sin. May all you seek be yours.

Jarius. Jes’ so—which is Sally. I’ve got her. As there’s likely to be a matrimonial convention in this house pretty soon, I appint myself a delegate.

Sally. Second the motion.

John. Ned, I withdraw all objections to your proposal regarding Mary.

Ned. Thank you, Mr. Nutter.—Mary, are you going to make me happy?

Mary. I’m going to try, Ned. And where there’s a will there’s a way, you know.

Will. Mother, you don’t know how happy I feel to be with you again, to see the old home, everything about the room so familiar; even the little brown jug has a familiar look. It was my first temptation.

Jarius. Yes, boy, it was a family temptation. I knowed it would work trouble. Ah, if the liquid poison that slays was never allowed to show itself in the home, there would be fewer desolate hearthstones, fewer blighted lives.

John. You’re right, Jarius. When that boy fell, it opened my eyes, and not a drop of liquor shall ever enter my doors.

Jarius. Jes’ so. Stick to it, John Nutter. It was a bad speck. It turned your boy adrift; but, thanks to a mother’s love, he fought and conquered.

Will. (Comes up and takes Jarius’s hand.) Thanks to you, thanks to you!

Jarius. Wal, I dunno—

Hannah. (Comes and takes Jarius’s other hand.) Jes’ so, Jarius, jes’ so.

TABLEAU.