" I ain't good," replied Woodcock decidedly. " I'm bad,
and gettin' worse, and I don't want to have you think I'm
gettin' any better. I sh'd be ashamed to grow good on
sech fodder as I've had in this plantation. It's mighty poor
stock that'U do it, and I don't belong to the breed."

" We all notice that you are changed in your temper,"
said Mr. Pynchon, " and I see no way for you to do but to
let us call it for better or worse, as it pleases us."

"Do you r'ally s'pose the folks round here think I'm
gettin' good ?" inquired Woodcock, with an air not unlike
that of injured innocence.
" With the exception of Mr. Moxon, I presume they do."

" Then they're a sweet set of fools — that's all. Now I'll
teU you. Square, jest how 'tis, and what it aU started from.
