The Court was nearing the end of the term, Dolittle et al. vs. Dolittle's Executrix, with all its witnesses and all its bitternesses, had resulted in a mistrial, and the sister churches were wider apart than ever. The rest of the docket was being daily disposed of.

The Sheriff was busy one day telling his story to an admiring throng on the court-green when someone casually observed that Mrs. Dick Creel had got off the train that morning.

The Sheriff's face changed a little.

“Where is she!”

“Waitin' in the tavern parlor.”

“What is she doing here! What is she doing in there!”

“Jest a settin' and a waitin'.”

“I 'spect she is waitin' for you, Aleck!” hazarded one of his friends.

There was a burst of laughter, for Squire Jefford's daughter, Mary, was known to be “a woman of her own head.”

The Sheriff laughed, too; but his laughter was not as mirthful as usual. He made an ineffectual attempt to keep up his jollity.

“I reckon I 'll go and see Mary,” he said at length.

He left the group with affected cheerfulness, but his heart was heavier than he liked to admit. He made his way to the “ladies' parlor,” as the little sitting-room in the south wing of the rambling old tavern, overlooking the court-green was called, and opened the door.

On one side of the wood fire, in a stiff, high-backed chair sat a young woman, in her hat and wrap and gloves, “jest a settin' and a waitin'.” She was a well-made and comely young woman under thirty, with a ruddy face, smooth hair and bright eyes that the Sheriff knew could both smile and snap. Her head was well set on rather plump shoulders; her mouth was well formed, but was now close drawn, and her chin was strong enough to show firmness—too much firmness, as Thompson mentally decided when he caught its profile.

The Sheriff advanced with an amiable smile. He was so surprised.

“Why, you here, Mary! When did you come?” His tone was affable and even testified pleasure. But Mary did not unbend. She was as stiff as the chair she sat in. Without turning her head she turned her eyes and looked at him sideways.

“Mrs. Creel.”

There was a glint in her black eyes that meant war, and Thompson's countenance fell.

“Ah-ur-Mrs. Creel.”

“I did n't know as you 'd know me!” She spoke quietly, her eyes still on him sidewise.

“Not know you! Why, of course, I know you. I don't forget the pretty girls—leastways, the prettiest girl in the county. Your father and I———”

“I heard you made a mistake about my husband and Jim Turkle. I thought maybe you might think I was Mrs. Turkle.”

There was the least perceptible lifting of her shoulders and drawing down of her mouth, but quite enough to suggest Jenny Turkle 's high shoulders and grim face.

The Sheriff tried to lighten the conversation.

“Oh! Come now, Mary, you must n't get mad about that. It was all a joke. I was comin' right up after court adjourned to tell you about it—and—. It was the funniest thing! You 'd 'a' died laughing if you 'd been here and seen——”

“I heard they was all laughin' about it. I ain't so easy to amuse.”

“Oh! Yes, you would, too,” began Thompson, cajolingly. “If you 'd seen——”

“What time does Court adjourn!” she asked, quietly and irrelevantly,

“Oh, not for two or three—not for several days yet—Probably 't will hold over till well into next week. But if you 'd seen——”

“I mean what time does it let out to-day?”

Thompson's face fell again.

“Why—ah—about—ah—Why! What do you want to know for!”

“I want to see the Judge.” Her voice was dead level.

“What about!”

“About business!”

“What business!”

“Co'te business,” with cold irony.

“You don't mean that you 're goin' to——!”

He paused without framing the rest of the question.

She suddenly stood up and flamed out.

“Yes, I am—that 's just what I am goin' to do. That 's what I 've come here for. You may take a liberty with the Judge—he 's doty; but you can't take a liberty with me—I 'm Squire Jefford's daughter, and I 'm goin' to show you.”

She was facing him now, and her black eyes were darting fire. Thompson was quite staggered.

“Why, Mary! I am surprised at you. Your father's old friend—who has had you on his knee many a time. I am shocked and surprised—and mortified and—astonished—and mortified——”

“You 've done said that one once,” she said, icily.

“Why, Mary, I thought we were friends—” he began. But she cut in on him.

“Friends!” She spoke with contempt. “You 've had it in for Dick ever since he was a boy.” Her voice suddenly broke and the tears sprang to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

“Why, Mary—no such thing—I assure you—Dick and I are the best of friends—dear friends.”

Her sniff was more forcible than words. She wiped her eyes and looked at him with freezing contempt.

“I 'm a fool! And I don't want you to be Mary-in' me, either. If Dick chooses to let you get him drunk and make a beast and a fool of him and drag him up before the Court like a—a—like that drunkard, Jim Turkle, what don't know how to behave himself seemly in Court, and Circuit Court at that—he may; but I 'll let you know, I'm not goin' to do it. I don't mean the Judge to think my husband's a thing like that. I mean to set him right. And I 'll tell him you are nothing but an old gambler who spends your time ruinin' young men, and braggin' as how you can bluff anybody.”

“Mary!—ur—Mrs. Creel!” gasped the Sheriff.

She stalked by him wiping her eyes, and marched straight to the door; but the Sheriff was too quick for her. His office, his reputation, everything hung on his pacifying her. He sprang to the door and, standing with his back against it, began to apologize in so humble a tone that even the angry wife could not but listen to him.

He said everything that any mortal could have said, and declared that he would do anything on earth that she might ask.

She reflected, and he began to hope again. When their eyes met, hers were still hard, but they were calmer.

“I know you think you are making a fool of me,” she began, and then as he protested she shut him up with a sharp gesture.

“Yes, you do, you think so; but you are not. There is but one thing I will accept in apology.”

“What is that!”

“You are to make Dick your deputy.”

“But, M——”

“I knew you would n't. Stand aside.” She gave a sweep of the arm.

“But, Mary!”

“Stand aside, I say—I 'd rather have you removed anyway.”

“But, Mary, just listen——”

“Stand aside, or I will call.” She straightened herself and looked past him, as if listening.

“But, Mary, do be reasonable!”

She opened her mouth as if to cry out. The Sheriff threw up both hands.

“Mary, please—For kingdom's sake, don't! What unreasonable creatures women are!”

“You 'd better let women alone. One is as much as you can manage now.” She spoke witheringly. “I give you one more chance.”

“More than I can manage. You know Dick will get drunk——”

“Not unless you make him. Who was drunk at that barbecue at Jones's Cross Roads last summer!”

“Oh, Mary!”

“Who set up till after Sunday mornin' playin' kyards—. Yes, gamblin'' the last night of last County Cote!”

“Oh, Mary!—All right. I lay down my hand.”

She drew paper and pencil from her little bag and held them out to him.

“Write it down.”

“Ain't my word good enough!”

“If you mean to do it, why are you afraid to write it!”

“I 'm not afraid.”

“Then write it.” She held the paper to him with outstretched arm.

“What shall I write!”

“Write what I say: 'I Aleck Thompson, promise and bind myself if I remain in office for another term to appoint my dear friend, Dick Creel'—underscore that—'my first deputy, and to keep him in as long as he keeps sober and attends to his business.' Now sign it.”

“What consideration do I get for this!” Thompson looked up from the paper at her ca-jolingly. She met his gaze with a little flash.

“Oh! I forgot the consideration,” she murmured, “and I Squire Jefford's daughter, too!

“Write: 'The consideration for the above is the love I bear the aforesaid Richard Creel, and the fear I have that his wife will tell the Judge what a smart Aleck I am.'”

“Mary, you don't want me to write that!”

“Them very words. I little more forgot the consideration.”

The paper was written.

She glanced out of the window.

“Now I want a witness. I see the court is broken up.”

“Tain't necessary.”

“I want a witness, and I 'm goin' to have him.”

“Who!”

“The Judge.”

“Look here, Mary——”

“I 'm goin' to have him. You come and introduce me.”

“Mary, are you after all goin' to——”

She met his gaze frankly.

“No—unless you go back on me. If you do, I 'll tell him and show him the paper; and what 's more, I 'll show it all around this county.”

A flash of genuine admiration sprang into the Sheriff's eyes.

“Mary, you ought to have been a man, or—Mrs. Aleck Thompson.”

The paper was signed and witnessed.