gone up again.  I forgot I was the old man's servant.  But next minute I whirled in on a kind of an explanation how a valley was different from a common servant and _had_ to go to church whether he wanted to or not, and set with the family, on account of its being the law.  But I didn't do it pretty good, and when I got done I see she warn't satisfied.  She says: “Honest injun, now, hain't you been telling me a lot of lies?” “Honest injun,” says I. “None of it at all?” “None of it at all.  Not a lie in it,” says I. “Lay your hand on this book and say it.” I see it warn't nothing but a dictionary, so I laid my hand on it and said it.  So then she looked a little better satisfied, and says: “Well, then, I'll believe some of it; but I hope to gracious if I'll believe the rest.” “What is it you won't believe, Joe?” says Mary Jane, stepping in with Susan behind her. “It ain't right nor kind for you to talk so to him, and him a stranger and so far from his people.  How would you like to be treated so?” “That's always your way, Maim--always sailing in to help somebody before they're hurt.  I hain't done nothing to him.  He's told some stretchers, I reckon, and I said I wouldn't swallow it all; and that's every bit and grain I _did_ say.  I reckon he can stand a little thing like that, can't he?” “I don't care whether 'twas little or whether 'twas big; he's here in our house and a stranger, and it wasn't good of you to say it.  If you was in his place it would make you feel ashamed; and so you oughtn't to say a thing to another person that will make _them_ feel ashamed.” “Why, Mam, he said--” “It don't make no difference what he _said_--that ain't the thing.  The thing is for you to treat him _kind_, and not be saying things to make him remember he ain't in his own country and amongst his own folks.” I says to myself, _this_ is a girl that I'm letting that old reptile rob her of her money! Then Susan _she_ waltzed in; and if you'll believe me, she did give H