One morning when Louise answered his tap at the door, she told him that the sufferer was much better and that she believed he was going to get well. "I'm mighty glad to hear it," he replied. "The doctors can't always tell." "Won't you come in?" "No, I might worry him." "Oh, not in the least. He's asleep anyway, and I'm lonesome. Come in, please." He followed her into the house, trying to lessen his weight as if he were walking on thin ice; and the old house cracked its knuckles, but his foot-fall made not a sound. She placed a chair for him and sat down with her hands in her lap, and how expressive they were, small and thin, but shapely. She was pale and neat in a black gown. To him she had never looked so frail, and her eyes had never appeared so deeply blue, but her hands--he could not keep his eyes off them--one holding pity and the other full of appeal. "Don't you need a little more wood on?" he asked. "No, it's not cold enough for much fire." "Where did you get that cat?" "She came crying around the other day and I let her in, and she has made herself at home." "The negroes say it's good luck for a cat to come to the house." She sighed. "I don't believe in luck." "I do. I believe in bad luck, for it's generally with me. Does your mother come every day?" "Yes, although I beg her not to." "I reckon she'll do about what she wants to. Has the Major----" She held up her hand and he sat looking at her with his mouth half open. But at the risk of offending her, he added: "I didn't know but he might have come over." "He would, but I won't let him." "And do you think it's exactly right not to let him?" "I think it is exactly right to do as a something within me dictates," she answered. "He placed me in a certain position----" "But he is more than willing to take you out of it," Taylor broke in. "He doesn't want you to remain in that position." "No, he can't take me out of it. He charged me with ingratitude, and I would rather he had driven me off the place. Nothing can be much crueler than to remind one of ingratitude; it is like shooting from behind a rock; it is having one completely at your mercy." Now she sat leaning forward with her hands clasped over her knees. Pennington coughed slightly in his sleep and she looked toward the bed. She straightened up and put the hair back out of her eyes and Taylor followed the motion of her hand. "Did he eat the squirrel?" "Yes, and enjoyed it." The cat got up, stretched, and rubbing against the tongs, knocked them down with a clatter. Pennington awoke. Louise was beside him in a moment. "Ah, it's you, Mr. Taylor," he said. "Yes, but it wasn't me that made the noise." "Oh, it didn't disturb me, I assure you. I was just about waking up anyway. That will do, thank you." Louise had begun to arrange the pillows. "I'll sit up. See how strong I am. Give me a pipe. I believe I can smoke a little."