“Sure, Zalie. Didn’t your ma tell you that? Well, she was a close one. I don’t know as she told us all, either, but we got hold of the story one way and another. When her father skipped out to parts unknown, owing to some trouble he got into at the time of the war, his wife—she was his second wife, and only a young thing—went back to her folks in Alabama for a while. And then they was made so poor by the war that she took shame to be dependent on them. So she came back to this part of the country, somewhere, and taught school, and took care of her little girl. And that little girl was your ma. She was a pretty little thing, made to live in luxury, I allow. I suppose she sort of honed for grand ways and grand clothes. Anyway, when your pa, Jack Knox, who come of an old family and was handsome and taking in his ways, came along, she married him. She didn’t know the drinking and the shiftlessness had come down to him as well as the fine manners and the handsome face. I heard your grandmother fought and fought against them two marrying, but they would have their way. So that’s your story, missy, and I do think it was coming to you to know it.” Azalea stared into the woman’s face with wide-stretched eyes. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Mrs. Bowen. I am glad to know; I do think I had a right to be told. But just think, I was in that old house the other day—that beautiful old house that belonged to my grandfather. ‘The Shoals’ it is called. And it’s very, very queer, but I felt all the time as if I had been in it before. But of course I never had. You can’t inherit memories, can you Mrs. Bowen, the way you do the features of your face, or—or habits?” [Picture: “So that’s your story, missy.”] But at that moment, Betty Bowen’s great hulk of a son came sauntering back from what he called a “spying.” “There ain’t nobody in sight so far as I can make out,” he announced sullenly. “And now suppose you two quiet down a little. I want to sleep.” He whistled his dog to him and pointed with a big forefinger at Azalea. “Watch, Tige,” he commanded. And he and the dog stretched themselves side by side, the man to sleep, and the dog to keep guard. Azalea felt a wave of trembling creeping over her, and she turned her eyes once more to Bet. “Oh, Mrs. Bowen,” she whispered, “what have I done that you should treat me like this?” But Mrs. Bowen lifted her finger in warning. “Just keep still, Zalie,” she answered, also under her breath, “and you won’t be hurt. Sisson’s a man that hits back when he’s hit. He was all-fired mad at your being took from him and he swore he’d have you back. He seemed to have to do it to keep up his pride. So now he’s got you, and I’m to keep you, that’s all.” “But how can you, Betty? How can you? I wouldn’t do anything mean to you.” Betty Bowen looked at her darkly.