“He’s the meanest man I ever saw,” thought Andy.  “Does he think I work on nothing a year, and find myself?  Divil a bit of work will I do for him agin, if I know it.”  But better luck was in store for Andy.  Quarter of a mile farther on, in a two-story house, old-fashioned but neat, lived two maiden ladies of very uncertain age, Misses Priscilla and Sophia Grant.  I am not aware that any relationship existed between them and our distinguished ex-President.  Nevertheless, they were of very respectable family and connections, and of independent property, owning bank stock which brought them in an annual income of about twelve hundred dollars, in addition to the house they occupied, and half a dozen acres of land thereunto pertaining.  Now, this was not a colossal fortune, but in a country place like Crampton it made them ladies of large property.

Priscilla was the elder of the two, and general manager.  Sophia contented herself with being the echo of her stronger-minded sister, and was very apt to assent to her remarks, either by repeating them, or by saying:  “Just so.”  She was a mild, inoffensive creature, but very charitable and amiable, and so little given to opposition that there was always the greatest harmony between them.  They kept a gardener and out-of-door servant of all work, who cultivated the land, sawed and split their wood, ran of errands, and made himself generally useful.  He had one drawback, unfortunately.  He would occasionally indulge to excess in certain fiery alcoholic compounds sold at the village tavern, and, as natural consequence, get drunk.  He had usually the good sense to keep out of the way while under the influence of liquor, and hitherto the good ladies had borne with and retained him in their employ.

But a crisis had arrived.  That morning he had come for orders while inebriated, and in his drunken folly had actually gone so far as to call Miss Priscilla darling and offer to kiss her.

Miss Priscilla was, of course, horrified, and so expressed herself.

“Law, Sophia,” she said, “I came near fainting away.  The idea of his offering to kiss me.”

“Just so,” said Sophia.

“So presuming.”

“Just so.”

“Of course, I couldn’t think of employing him any longer.”

“Couldn’t think of it.”

“He might have asked to kiss me again.”

“Just so.”

“Or you!”

“Just so,” said Sophia, in some excitement of manner.

“The neighbors would talk.”

“Just so.”

“So I told him that I was very sorry, but it would be necessary for him to find work somewhere else.”

“But who will do our work?” inquired Sophia, with a rare, original suggestion.

“We must get somebody else.”

“So we must,” acquiesced Sophia, as if she had suddenly received light on a very dark subject.

“But I don’t know who we can get.”

“Just so.”