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table was disarranged. The breakfast of fried chicken, boiled potatoes, cabbage, and apple pie had become cold. Presently Aline entered with a cup of lukewarm coffee and marked her contempt of the meal with an audible sniff. Aline had worked for Judge Stone; she knew what a breakfast ought to be.

As Abner ate, Beatrice Belle came into the dining room with her pale hair wound up on curlers. She rubbed her puffed eyes and regarded the table with a hostility equal to Aline's.

"Mammy makes me so tired," she whined. "Cabbage and potatoes for breakfast to suit Pappy's whims."

"He got used to it on the farm," defended Abner absently. "I like it myself."

"You an' Daddy will always be country," stated Beatrice disagreeably.

"Looky here," growled the youth, "I'd ruther be from the country than one of thess sissy town johnnies."

The girl made a little moue and became silent; presently she asked, "Where did you go last night?"

"Home. I couldn't dance."

"Well, you ort to of stayed instead of runnin' off an' gittin' me insulted," reproved Beatrice sharply.

"Insulted!"

"Yes, I couldn't find you, so I picked up that Sim Pratt."

"You don't mean that he—"

"He certainly did. I was drivin' an' he put his arm around me. I pushed him away but purty soon he done it again."

"Whyn't you make him git out an' walk?"

"I tried to but he wouldn't git out. He said it was dangerous for a young girl to be drivin' alone at night; somebody might do somethin' to her."

"An' him settin' there doin' it hisse'f!"

"He was jest tryin' to be smart."

Abner bit off the end of his chicken bone and crunched it in his teeth. "I'll fix him for that—he won't bother you no more."