The old man dropped the towel and thrust his long, almost jointless fingers into his vest pocket for a horn comb which folded up like a jack-knife. “I was jest a-wonderin',” as he began to rake his shaggy hair straight down to his eyes--“I was jest a-wonderin' ef he could 'a' bent his skull in a little that time his mule th'owed 'im agin the sweet-gum. They say that often changes a body powerful. Folks do think he's off his cazip on the land question, an' now that he's traded his best nest-egg fer another swipe o' the earth's surface, I reckon they 'll talk harder. But yore pa ain't no fool; no plumb idiot could 'a' managed yore ma as well as he has. You see I know what he's accomplished, fer I've been with 'em ever since they was yoked together. When they was married she was as wild as a buck, an' certainly made our daddy walk a chalk-line; but Alfred has tapered 'er down beautiful. She didn't want this thing done one bit, an' yet it is settled by this time”--the old man looked through the hall to the front gate--“yes, Trabue's unhitchin'; he's got them stock certificates in his pocket, an' yore pa has the deeds in his note-case. When this gits out, moss-backs from heer clean to Gilmer 'll be trapsin' in to dispose o' land at so much a front foot.” “But what under high heaven will he do with it all?” “Hold on to it,” grinned Abner, “that is, ef he kin rake an' scrape enough together to pay the taxes. Why, last yeer his taxes mighty nigh floored 'im, an' the expenses on this county he's jest annexed will push 'im like rips; fer now, you know, he 'll have to do without the income on his factory stock; but he thinks he's got the right sow by the yeer. Before long he may yell out to us to come he'p 'im turn 'er loose, but he's waltzin' with 'er now.” At this juncture Mrs. Bishop came out of the dining-room wiping her eyes on her apron. “Mother,” said Alan, tenderly, “try not to worry over this any more than you can help.” “Your pa's gettin' old an' childish,” whimpered Mrs. Bishop. “He's heerd somebody say timber-land up in the mountains will some day advance, an' he forgets that he's too old to get the benefit of it. He's goin' to bankrupt us.” “Ef I do,” the man accused thundered from the hall, as he strode out, “it 'll be my money that's lost--money that I made by hard work.” He stood before them, glaring over his eye-glasses at his wife. “I've had enough of yore tongue, my lady; ef I'd not had so much to think about in thar jest now I'd 'a' shut you up sooner. Dry up now--not another word! I'm doin' the best I kin accordin' to my lights to provide fer my children, an' I won't be interfered with.” No one spoke for a moment. However, Mrs. Bishop finally retorted, as her brother knew she would, in her own time. “I don't call buyin' thousands o' acres o' unsalable land providin' fer anything, except the pore-house,” she fumed.