Jimmie, realizing that there was stern business at hand, and ashamed of his momentary emotion, replied:
"Jus' dis: I got somethin' ter ast yer; what are yer doin' in our house anyhow?"
"Hush, Jimmie," interposed Mrs. Moore. "Yer mind yer business."
"That's jus' what I'm doin', Ma. I seen Morton, an' he says it's all wrong fer yer ter keep this piker here, and yer know I promised Pa der night Jesus took him up dare——"
A curse followed from Hathnit which was so awful that it would have shaken anything but Jimmie's determination. "Go an' tell dis Bible-banging Morton to keep his d—— advice to himself. I'm a peaceable man, but if I mix with this Mission galoot he'll cut out givin' his advice to you kids. As fer you, you better duck till you git this nonsense out of yer head." Hathnit strolled to the door and opened it, and Jimmie was compelled for the time being to leave the house.
"It's no more than I expected," said Mrs. Cook to Jimmie as he related the events of the morning. "When I heard Hathnit was a-livin' ter yer house, I jus' told Bill that no good would come from it. Poor Jimmie, you jus' wait till I git these here clothes out of this here bluing water; I'll go over wid yer to see what can be did."
Soon the last towel was through the wringer, and Mrs. Cook, hastily drying her hands on her apron, accompanied Jimmie to his home. The conference that ensued was not productive of any good. Hathnit was a man devoid of all manly principles, lazy to the limit, ill-bred, ill-kept, illiterate, but still possessing one noticeable characteristic—a keenness which cannot be overlooked in men of his ilk.
Mrs. Cook came to the point at once. "Mis Moore," she said, "yer boy Jim tells me you've took Hathnit here for yer man."
"Right yer be," replied Hathnit. "Yer needn't guess again."
"But yer ain't married yet," said Mrs. Cook.