The Starbucks | Page 6

back and looked at him in pretended astonishment. "Was
anybody ever polite to you?"
"Well, not many of the Starbucks, that's a fact--none, come to think of
it 'cept yo' cousin Jim, the preacher, and he believes that the Lord made
all things for a purpose."
"Yes, he believes that God made the devil."
Peters laughed as if he really enjoyed her contempt of him. He pulled at
his whiskers, cleared his throat, took a turn about the room and looking
at her again, he appeared as if he had attempted to soften his

countenance with a sentiment urgently summoned. "Yes, that is all true,
I reckon. And now let me tell you. I mout not look like it--like I'm hard
to please, but I am. Thar ain't one woman out of a hundred that can
make me wake up when I'm sleepy and think about her, but you can.
And ever sense you was a child I've said I'd never marry till I could git
you." He saw the anger in her eyes and hesitated. "Ah, you may not
think very much of me now," he continued, "but that can all be changed.
A woman's like a mornin' glory flower--always a changing; an' I know
you could learn to love me."
"Oh, you do. Well, what you know and what's the truth won't never
know each other well enough to shake hands."
Peters smiled upon her, "Wall, if nuthin' else did, that of itself would
prove you air old Jasper's daughter."
Margaret Starbuck came in, with a pan of turnips. Peters bowed to her.
"Er good mornin', ma'm."
She put the pan on the table and giving him an unconscious grace bade
him good morning. "Is mammy done ironin'?" she asked, speaking to
Lou.
"Yes'm, I reckon so." Then she added, speaking to Peters, "Is there
anythin' else you wanted?"
"Why, Lou," Margaret spoke up, "is that the way to talk?"
"Yes'm, sometimes," and nodding at Peters she added: "And this is one
of them." She laughed, turned away and sat down with her elbows
resting on a battered old melodeon.
"Oh, she's jest a jokin' with me ma'm," said Peters. "I wanted to see yo'
husband. Reckon he's out some whar on the place."
"I think so," Margaret replied, peeling the turnips. "I heard him calling
the hogs just now."

Lou looked at Peters and said: "Then why don't you go?"
"Why, daughter," exclaimed Margaret, "you musn't talk that way. Mr.
Peters is in yo' house."
She came forward and to the visitor bowed with mock humility. "I beg
your pardon, Mr. Peters--"
"Oh, that's all right, Miss Lou."
"For bein' honest with you."
Peters cleared his throat. She returned to the melodeon and sat down
with her back toward him. Peters started out but halted and spoke to
Margaret. "Suthin' I have been workin' fur a long time is about to
come--an app'intment I've been tryin' to git, and when I git it there air
folks that ought to be skeered."
Lou glanced round at him and replied, "And then again, there are folks
that won't be."
"Ah," said Peters, "an' them that won't be air them that ought to be."
And then to Margaret he added: "If I don't find Jasper I'll be back.
When he comes tell him I want to see him. Good day."
When he had gone out into the road Margaret inquired of her daughter
what he had said to give such offense.
"He said I could learn to love him. And I as much as told him he was a
liar."
"But, daughter, you musn't talk like that. You'll have to be more careful
with him, for in some way he's got the upper hand of yo' father."
"Well, I don't envy him his job."
"Hush," said Margaret. "Here come the folks."
CHAPTER III.

GETTING ACQUAINTED.
In came Mrs. Mayfield and her nephew, with Jim, the preacher,
following them. Margaret began industriously to dust a rocking chair.
She bade them come in, if it were not too warm, "Mammy has been
ironing but the fire's dyin' down. And I do hope she irons yo' clothes to
suit you, Miz Mayfield," she added.
"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Mayfield, glancing round at the preacher who
with hat in hand sat on the melodeon stool, gazing at her. "I am not
hard to please," she continued, speaking to Margaret. "I have passed
that stage."
Margaret bowed to her. "Well, I'm mighty glad to hear it. So many
folks are hard to please. There come a woman from away off yander
sometime ago and took up over at Fetterson's and they couldn't do a
thing to please her--grumbled all the time; the water wasn't even good,
when heaven knows we've got the best water on the yeth. So