In Beaver Cove and Elsewhere

by Miss Matt Crim

The Kentuckian was not a coward, but he had no weapon—how he longed for the pistols in his saddle-bags!—and realized that his host might do him mischief if not humored.

It was a curious scene, an extremely ludicrous one. The candles, set in tall, brass candlesticks, sputtered and flared, the tallow melting down in a little gutter on one side. They cast only an uncertain, flickering light over the room, and the tall, awkward Kentuckian, in creaking boots, shuffled over the bare floor until the house fairly trembled, and Miss Jane turned on her high feather bed in a chamber above, wondering what unseemly sport could be going on. But the victim of Mr. Galer's whims was a wary man and given to dissimulation when occasion required. He appeared to find such humor in the situation that his host was thrown entirely off guard and allowed the gun to rest negligently on the table in front of him. In a twinkling it was snatched from his loosened grasp, and the Kentuckian stood between him and the door.

"Now you try your skill awhile, Mr. Galer, or you may play best man at the funeral," he said, grimly.

It was a neat revenge, and instead of trying to rouse the household to his protection Mr. Galer promptly began to keep time to the music with slow, old-fashioned steps. But he had lost the lightness and skill of his youth, and, soon exhausted, had to beg for mercy. Elbert's eyes twinkled in secret glee over his master's discomfiture, and he played a livelier strain than ever. Mr. Galer and the trader parted the next morning in the friendliest manner, and he told the story of his defeat with the keenest appreciation.

With such a disposition to override all opposition to his wishes and desires, it is not to be supposed that his family had an easy life of it when wills clashed. It was only by stratagem that they could ever outwit him; and it was by stratagem that Pamela married the man she loved. It happened in this wise:

Adjoining Mr. Galer's plantation was one even larger and richer, belonging to Mr. Josiah Williamson, a man who had abundance of money, and was amply able to take life easy. He went away annually on a trip to the principal Northern cities, and even talked of some time going abroad. He and old Jabez Galer were warm friends, and it had long been understood between them that Pamela should become Mrs. Josiah Williamson when she arrived at a suitable age. At the date of this story she had reached eighteen, and her grandfather's plans for her future began to take active shape. One morning he stamped into the hall, threw his hat and riding-whip on a table, shouting in thundering tones:

"Permely! Per*me*ly! hey, Perme*lee!*"

The little negroes rolling in the sand in the back yard scampered away behind the kitchen, Miss Jane dropped the fine linen she was mending in the dining-room, and Elbert muttered over a half-polished boot: "Mars Jabe in one o' his tantrums 'g'in, ez I live."

"What is it, grandpa?" inquired a youthful voice from the upper hall, and Pamela stepped lightly down the broad, shallow stairs.

"Come here to me," he said, but in a softer tone; for she held the tenderest place in his heart; and she was fair enough to disarm even greater anger than his. She was a tall young person, with a certain charming dignity of carriage, a rather pale but lovely face, fine, pale brown hair, and steel-gray eyes. There was no vivid coloring about her, though plenty of character lay under that soft, subdued beauty. She was gowned in thin muslin befitting the summer day, with a narrow lace collar turned down around her slender neck. Mr. Galer laid his hands heavily on her shoulders, looking sternly into her clear eyes.