“Well, Miss Summers!” she said, in a crooked and shrill voice, “talking to gentlemen, I see!  Mr. Jinks, against rules, sir—­come, Miss, you know my wishes on this subject.”

As she spoke, her eyes fell upon the turkey hanging from Cloud’s saddle-bow.

“Young man,” she said to Verty, “what’s the price of that turkey?”

Verty was looking at Redbud, and only knew that the awful Mrs. Scowley had addressed him, from Redbud’s whispering to him.

“Anan?” he said.

“I say, what’s the price of that turkey?” continued the old lady; “if you are moderate, I’ll buy it.  Don’t think, though, that I am going to give you a high price.  You mountain people,” she added, looking at Verty’s wild costume, “can get along with very little money.  Come, how much?”

Verty on that occasion did the only artful thing which he ever accomplished—­but what will not a lover do?

He went to Cloud, took the fine gobbler from the saddle, and bringing it to Mrs. Scowley, laid it at the feet of that awful matron with a smile.

“You may have him,” said Verty, “I don’t want him.”

“Don’t want him!”

“No, ma’am—­I just shot him so—­on my way to my writing.”

“Your writing, sir?” said Mrs. Scowley, gazing at Verty with some astonishment—­“what writing?”

“I’m in Mr. Rushton’s office, and I write,” Verty replied, “but I don’t like it much.”

Mrs. Scowley for a moment endeavored to look Verty out of countenance, but finding that the young man seemed to have no consciousness of the fact, and that he returned her gaze with friendly interest, the ogress uttered a sound between a snort and a cough, and said:—­

“Then you did’nt come to sell the turkey?”

“No, indeed, ma’am.”

“For what, then?”

“I came to see Redbud,” replied Verty; “you know, ma’am, that we know each other very well; I thought I’d come.”  And Verty smiled.

Mrs. Scowley was completely puzzled—­she had never before seen a gentleman of Verty’s candor, and could find no words to reply.  She thought of saying to our friend that visiting a young lady at school was highly criminal and reprehensible, but a glance at the fat turkey lying on the grass at her feet, caused her to suppress this speech.

As she gazed, her feeling relented more and more—­Verty grew still more amiable in her eyes—­the turkey evidently weighed more than twenty pounds.

“I’m much obliged to you, young man,” she said, “and I’ll take the turkey from you as a friend.  Come in and have some apples—­there’s a bell-mouth tree.”

“Oh yes!” said Verty, “I’m very fond of apples—­but Redbud may have some, too?” he added, smiling innocently.

“Hum!” said the ogress.

“Just a few, you know, ma’am,” said Verty, with his bright smile.  “I know from the way she looks that she wants some.  Don’t you, Redbud?”