He rose and went to Nan—he was not too tipsy to walk—and tried to lay his hand on her arm, but she whirled away from him. "Honey," he said, "what must I do? I'll do anything in the world you say."
"Go home and try to be decent," she answered.
"I will, honey, ef you an' Gabriel will go wi' me. I need some un for to keep the boogers off. You git on the lead side, honey, an' Gabriel, you be the off-hoss. Now, hitch on here"—he held out both elbows, so that each could take him by an arm—"an' when you're ready to start, give the word."
Nan dried her eyes as quickly as she could, but before she would consent to go with Mr. Sanders, insisted on searching him. She found a flask of apple-brandy, and hurled it against the side of the court-house.
"Nan," he said ruefully, "that's twice you've broke my heart in a quarter of an hour. Ain't there some way you can break Gabriel's?" He paused and sniffed the fumes of the apple-brandy. "It's a mighty good thing court ain't in session," he remarked, "bekaze the judge an' jury an' all the lawyers would come pourin' out for to smell at that wall there. You say they ain't no way for you to break Gabriel's heart, too?" he asked again, turning to Nan.
"I just know my eyes are a sight," she said in reply. "Are they red and swollen, Gabriel?"
"They are somewhat red, but——"
"But what?" she asked, as Gabriel paused.
"They are just as pretty as ever."
"Mr. Sanders, that is the first compliment he ever paid me in his life."