"No! When she died, when the child died, something died in me. D'ye think I don't know what ye all think? Don't I know that I'm the ornariest, meanest old skinflint atween Point Sal and San Diego? That's me, and I'm proud of it. I aim to let the hull world stew in its own juice. The folks in these yere foothills need thinnin' anyway. Halloa! What in thunder's this?" Through the door, which we had left ajar, very timidly, all blushes and dimples, and sucking one small thumb, came Sissy Leadham. She stood staring at us, standing on one leg and scratching herself nervously with the other. "Why, Sissy?" said Ajax. She removed her thumb, reluctantly. "Yas--it's me," she confessed. "Popsy don't know as I've comed up here." Then, suddenly remembering the conventions, she said, politely, "Good-evening, Mr. Spooner." "Good-evening," said the astonished Pap. "You wasn't expectin' me?" "I didn't think it was very likely as you'd call in," said Pap, "seein', Missy, as you'd never called in afore." "My name's Sissy, not Missy. Well, I'll call again, Mr. Spooner, when you've no comp'ny." "Jee-roosalem! Call again--will ye? An' s'pose I ain't to home--hey? No, Missy--wal, Sissy, then--no, Sissy, you speak out an' tell me what brought you a-visitin'--me?" She shuffled very uneasily. "I felt so awful sorry for you, Mr. Spooner. I jest hed to come, but I'll call again, early to-morrer." "No, ye won't. Because I aim ter leave this yere ranch afore sun-up. Jest you speak up an' out. If yer folks has sent you here"--his eyes hardened and flashed--"to borrer money, why, you kin tell 'em I ain't got none to loan." Sissy laughed gaily. "Why, I know that, Mr. Spooner. It's jest because, be-cause yer so pore--so very, very pore, that I comed up." "Is that so? Because I'm so very poor?" "I heard that in the store this evenin'. I was a-comin' in as you was a-comin' out. I heard Popsy say you was the porest man in the county, porer than all of us pore folks put together." She had lost her nervousness. She stood squarely before the old man, lifting her tender blue eyes to his. "Wal--an' what are you a-goin' to do about it?" "I can't do overly much, Mr. Spooner, but fer a little girl I'm rich. The dry year ain't hurt me any--yet. I've three dollars and sixty cents of my own." One hand had remained tightly clenched. Sissy opened it. In the moist pink palm lay three dollars, a fifty-cent piece, and a dime. Never had Pap's voice sounded so harsh in my ears as when he said: "Do I understan' that ye offer this to--me?" His tone frightened her. "Yas, sir. Won't you p-p-please t-take it?" "Did yer folks tell ye to give me this money?" "Why, no. I'd oughter hev asked 'em, I s'pose, but I never thought o' that. Honest Injun, Mr. Spooner, I didn't--and--and it's my own money," she concluded, half defiantly, "an' Popsy said as how I could do what I liked with it. Please take it." "No," said Pap.