St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1903-02-28
"He's got one Of his mad spells

the widow. "But what, in goodn ess
name, has brought it on?"
"a dog broke into the fold Hast
night, killed fine buck, and crippled
several ewes.'
"For PHYS sake! Well, I ne FER!
That's enough to make man Z lad!
Whose dog was it?''
HE thinks it was Squire Long.
acres"
'.Not Bruno?"
II believe he has only one dog"
'Well, I for one, don't think Bruno
will kill sheep. I know he will not,
and the squire is too neighborly and
too wise man to quarrel with, just
on a suspicion like that"
They'll quarrel, though" said
young Arson. "Father has gone over
there, mad, and the first word he ut
ters will start the squire"
Its great pity" commented Mrs.
Sloan.
"That's what I say" assented An
| son.
And he walked through the kitch-
| en- and sought his own room.
He seated himself at desk which
| stood in one corner, and drew to-
ward his pen and paper. After few
| minutes hesitation, he dashed Off a
| few lines, read what he had written
| carefully, and placed the sheet in an
| envelope.
After directing it, he affixed a
| stamp, and putting the letter in an
inner pocket, left the house by q
rear door, and walked across the
field toward the village.
He dropped the letter in the box
at the post Office, and returned di-
rectly home. When he reached there,
he met his father.
'Anson," said the colonel sharply,
''that scoundrel, Longacre, refuses to
pay for the sheep his dog killed, and
I'm going to bring suit against him"
Eyes, SIR
"I've noticed lately that you've been
paying that girl of his good deal of
attention. l want that stopped"
eyes, sir"
IF l hear of you being together
again, I'll disinherit you. She's as
bad as her father, and he's no better
than thief. His sister, Miss Doro-
thea, is very clever woman, and
the only really decent person about
the house"
Mrs. Abigail Sloan, who usually
spoke of Miss Dorothea Longacre as
that "hatchet-faced old maid," told
young Arson that night that she for
one did not believe in these neighbor-
ly quarrels, and she meant to tell
Squire Longacre that she had no
hand in the matter, and did not
believe his dog killed sheep, the first
time she saw him.
At about the same time Squire
Longacre was standing on the porch
of his house, angrily confronting his
daughter, Nellie, who had just re-
turned from the village.
"Neu," he said, that old rascal,
6hortrood, has been here, and I ex-
pect we'll have lawsuit. He says my
dog, Bruno, killed his sheep last
night, and told him fatty that If he
said my dog killed his sheep, he was
iar!"
"Oh, papa!" protested Nellie.
"Well, he's an unreasonable old
wretch, and I'll give him all the law
he wants. His sons no better. And
bark We, girl, if ever catch you and
that young puppy together again I'll
break my cane over his back and put
you in "a madhouse! Do you hear?"
eyes, papa"
"Well, heed, them" cried the squire,
warningly; and walked in to supper.
Nellie retired to her room, took a
letter from her bosom, and read the
contents eagerly.
"Dear fellow!" she said, and kissed
the sheet which had been penned only
few hours before by young Arson.
Then she went down to supper.
But little was said during the meal.
The squire was cross and sulky, and
Miss Dorothea was evidently in one
of her worst moods.
After the evening meal she put on
her bonnet and threw a light shawl
over her bony shoulders.
"Where are you going, Dor?" asked
her brother.
'None of your business!" was the
sharp answer.
"You needn't be so snappish about
it,"
"Snappish!" cried the ancient maid,
and she tossed her head. II should
say snappish! A man as unreason-
able as you are, talk about people
being snappish! Quarreled with one
of the incest men in the county"
"He's q scoundrel!" snarled the
squire.
"He's Christian gentleman" con-
tradicted Miss Dorothea, land you
ought to go down on your knees to
him and ask his pardon"
"I'll see myself! If there's any 60
ing down on the knees, let him go
down to me. He insulted me in my
own house."
II suppose you'd go down on 'em
fast enough If that maneuvering old
widow would ask you!"
''She's lady," cried the squire.
"You'd better go tell her so. tn
be news to her, reckon"
perhaps l SHALL"
swell, you'd better. A lady! Well,
heaven save the mark
And, with this spiteful reflection,
Miss Dorothea founced out of tie
room.
She directed her steps toward a
grove of maple trees, WHICH marked
the boundary line between the farms
of the two belligerents.
By curious coincidence, Col Short