“But ther’s more,” said Miss Peekin, with a sigh, and yet with an air of importance befitting the bearer of wonderful tidings.
“What?” eagerly asked Mrs. Crankett.
“Jim’s back,” said Miss Peekin.
“Mercy on us!” cried Mrs. Crankett.
“The Lord bless and prosper him!” earnestly exclaimed the deacon.
“Well,” said Miss Peekin, with a disgusted look, “I s’pose He will, from the looks o’ things; fur Eben sez that when Weasel told the fellers how it all wuz, they went to work an’ put gold-dust in a box fur Jim till ther wus more than he giv fur Brown, an’ fellers from all round’s been sendin’ him dust ever since. He’s mighty sight the richest man anywhere near this town.”
“Good—bless the Lord!” said the deacon, with delight.
“Ye hain’t heerd all of it, though,” continued Miss Peekin, with a funereal countenance. “They’re going to be married.”
“Sakes alive!” gasps Mrs. Crankett.
“It’s so,” said Miss Peekin; “an’ they say she sent for him, by way of the Isthmus, an’ he come back that way. Bad enough to marry him, when poor Brown hain’t been dead six months, but to send for him——”