"W'l you remember ol' Doc Maxfield?" said Bill, well started on a reminiscence. "Wal, he come along, an' said it was the worst case of collapse, whatever that means, that he ever see--her lips an' hands an' chin all a-tremblin', an' flighty as a loon. Wal, after that I used to take her around some, an' her folks objected becuz I was ignorant, an' she learnt me some things, an' bein' strong an' a good dancer an' purty good-lookin' she kind o' forgot about my failin's, an' we was married. Her folks said she'd throwed herself away; but I could buy an' sell the hull set of 'em now!" This seemed conclusive as to the merits of the case, and I told him as much. "W'l Josie was born an' growed up," continued Bill, "an' it's her I started to tell about, wa'n't it? She was allus a cute little thing, an' early she got this art business in her head. She'd read about fellers that had got to be great by paintin' an' carvin', an' it made her wild to do the same thing. Wa'n't there a feller that pulled hair outer the cat to paint Injuns with? Yes, I thought they was; I allus thought they could paint theirselves good enough; but that story an' some others she read an' read when she was a little gal, an' she was allus a-paintin' an' makin' things with clay. She took a prize at the county fair when she was fourteen, with a picter of Washin'ton crossin' the Delaware--three dollars, by gum! An' then we hed to give her lessons; an' they wasn't any one thet knew anything around here, she said, an' she went to Chicago. An' I went in to visit her when she hedn't ben there more'n six weeks, on an excursion one convention time, an' I found her all tore up, a good deal as her ma was with the blue racer,--I don't think she's ever ben the same light-hearted little gal sence,--an' from there I took her to New York; an' there she fell in with a nice woman that was awful good to her, an' they went to Europe, an' it cost a heap. An' you may've noticed thet Josie knows a pile more'n the other women here?" I admitted that this had occurred to me.