She looked up into his eyes steadily for a moment, then she slapped him playfully on the breast and drew away from him. "How foolish you talk fer a grown-up man!" she laughed; "why, you know I can’t leave Mark and the children. He’d go stark crazy ’thout me around to grumble at, an’ then the rest ud be without my advice an’ counsel. La me, what makes you think I ain’t comfortable? This cabin is a sight better ’n the last one we had, an’ drier an’ a heap warmer inside when fire-wood kin be got. Hard times like these now is likely to come at any time an’ anywhar. It strikes rich an’ pore alike. Thar’s Dickerson offerin’ that fine old farm, with all the improvements, fer a mere song to raise money to go into business whar he kin hope to pay out o’ debt. They say now that the place—lock, stock, and barrel—kin be had fer ten thousand. Why, when you was a boy he would have refused twenty. Now, ef we-all had it instead o’ him, Mark an’ Jake could make it pay like rips, fer they are hard workers." "You think they could, mother?" His heart bounded suddenly, and he stood staring thoughtfully into her eyes. "Pay?—of course they could. Fellers that could keep a roof over a family’s head on what they’ve had to back ’em could get rich on a place like that. But, la me, what’s the use o’ pore folks thinkin’ about the property o’ the rich an’ lucky? It’s like dreamin’ you are a queen at night an’ wakin’ up in hunger an’ rags." "I remember the farm and the old house very well," King remarked, reflectively, the queer light still in his earnest eyes. "The _old_ one! Huh, Dickerson got on a splurge the year you left, an’ built a grand new one with some money from his wife’s estate. He turned the old one into a big barn an’ stable an’ gin. You must see the new house ’fore you go away, Luke. It’s jest splendid, with green blinds to the winders, a fancy spring-house with a tin rooster on top that p’ints the way the wind blows, and on high stilts like thar’s a big tank and a windmill to keep the house supplied with water. I hain’t never been in it, but they say they’ve got wash-tubs long enough to lie down in handy to every sleepin’-room, and no end of fancy contraptions." "We’d better go in, mother," he said, abruptly. "You’ll catch your death of cold out here in the dew." She laughed as they walked back to the cabin, side by side. A thick smoke and its unpleasant odor met them at the door.