"What's sauce fo' the goose ought to be sauce fo' the gander," argued the ex-moonshiner. "It ain' fittin' fo' you-all to say anythin' ag'in' Dr. Morgan, whatever he may _se_-lect to do," asserted Bud, combatively, and Pink hastened to hedge. "Ah 'low not. He certainly was white to me when Ah broke mah laig. 'N as fo' Mr. Baron, Ah always did like him, 'n this is a new tie between us. Now we're brothers." He chuckled with a full appreciation of his insolence, for the story of von Rittenheim's downfall and its cause was well known throughout the country. Melissa went white at the malignity of his tone. She turned to Bob with a question: "Mrs. Carroll 'n Miss Sydney--are they wore to a frazzle takin' care o' him?" "Mrs. Carroll's all right. They've had two nurses from Asheville all the time, you know. Miss Sydney's wonderful. There's such a lot to do about a house when there's a serious illness, even for people who aren't doing the actual nursing." "Ah s'pose so. Wouldn' hit be nice, jus' like a story, 'f they'd fall in love with each other--Mr. Baron 'n Miss Sydney?" "Now, ain' that jus' like a girl!" ejaculated Bud, gulping the last of his coffee. Bob sat down and fanned himself with his hat. "Hot, ain' hit?" observed Pink, dryly. Then he turned to Melissa. "You-all's fo'gittin' that he might be in prison at this minute. No woman o' his class would marry him now. No woman likes to think her man's guilty o' breakin' the law, eh? You-all wouldn' like yo' husband to be a moonshiner, would ye?" The man's body leaned towards the girl, and he fixed her with a cruel stare from which she seemed unable to move her eyes. Seated as he was, he looked like a huge snake upreared to strike. He went on mercilessly. "O' co'se ye wouldn'. Ah expect you'd never hol' up yo' haid ag'in. What woman can when her man's that-a-way?" "Oh, dry up, Pink," cried Bud. "You-all make me feel like Ah had the constable after me now, 'n Lawd knows hit ain' _me_ that's raced 'em through these woods." Pink acknowledged the shot with a grunt. Melissa rose to go, and Bud picked up the baby and handed it to her. "Hit's her busy day fo' sleepin', ain' hit?" he said, poking a blunt finger into the soft cheek. "I must go, too," said Bob, "or my mother'll jar me up for being late." "Good-by," said Bud, genially. "Stop by ag'in some time." "Miss Sydney's been so busy she ain' rode over here fo' a long time. Will you-all give mah love to her, please?" said Melissa, timidly. "'N mine," Pink started to add, but a dangerous look in Bob's eye induced him to change it to "'N mah _re_-gards to Mr. Baron," though his grin remained unaltered. XII Illumination