“Huh, you say you did! Well, I didn't see no light in the parlor when I passed jest now'. I was particular to look, fer I've been everywhar to find you, an' Porter's was the last place. By gum! I didn't think a chap that had been kick'n' the clods o' the grave off'n 'im all day fer a woman scrape 'ud run straight to another gal before he knowed whether his hide was liable to remain solid or not.”
“I wanted to see Miss Cynthia,” Floyd said, “to ask her to go to bush-arbor meeting with me Sunday, and I didn't intend to let my affair with Jeff Wade interfere with it.”
“Huh, that was it! an' that's why you are a-comin' out o' Nathan Porter's orchard at eleven o'clock at night, is it?”
Floyd gazed at his rough friend for an instant, just a touch of irritability in his manner as he made answer:
“Miss Cynthia and I were sitting in the grape arbor, behind the house. She only stayed a minute or two. I sat there a long time after she went in. I was smoking and was beastly tired.”
“I see, I see!” Pole was slightly mollified, but was still to be heard from.
“Now, let me tell you some'n', Nelson,” he pursued. “Thar hain't no flower that ever bloomed an' throwed out sweet smells that's as nice an' purty as a pure young gal that's got good, honorable parents, an' the reputation of a creature like that is more valuable in my sight than all the gold an' diamonds on earth.”
“You certainly are right about that,” Floyd agreed, coldly, for he was secretly resenting Pole's implied warning.
“Well, then,” Baker said, even more sternly, “don't you climb out'n Nathan Porter's orchard at this time o' night ag'in, when thar's a gate with a latch an' hinges to it right before yore eyes. What ef you'd 'a' been seed by some tattlin' busybody? You hain't got no more right to run the risk—the bare risk, I say—o' castin' a stain on that little gal's name than I have to set fire to yore store an' burn it to the ground. The shack could be built up ag'in, but that fair name 'ud never be the same ag'in.”
“You are thoroughly right, Pole,” Floyd said, regretfully. “I can see it now. But I'm rather sorry to see you throw it at a feller quite so hard.”