"'Yes, sir,' says Smith, puttin' out his hand. 'An' I guess,' he says, 'f'm all 't I c'n gather, thet you're doin' all 't we could expect, an' more too,' an' off he put." "How 'd it come out?" asked Mrs. Cullom. "'Lish lived about two year," replied Aunt Polly, "an' Dave done as he agreed, but even then when he come to settle up, he told Smith he didn't want no more said about it 'n could be helped." "Wa'al," said Mrs. Cullom, "it seems to me as if David did take care on him after all, fur 's spendin' money was concerned." "That's the way it looks to me," said Mrs. Bixbee, "but David likes to think t'other. He meant to be awful mean, an' he was--as mean as he could--but the fact is, he didn't reelly know how. My sakes! Cynthy (looking at the clock), I'll hev to excuse myself fer a spell. Ef you want to do any fixin' up 'fore dinner, jest step into my bedroom. I've laid some things out on the bed, if you should happen to want any of 'em," and she hurried out of the room. CHAPTER XXIII. David's house stood about a hundred feet back from the street, facing the east. The main body of the house was of two stories (through which ran a deep bay in front), with mansard roof. On the south of the main body of the house were two stories of the "wing," in which were the "settin' room," Aunt Polly's room, and, above, David's quarters. Ten minutes or so before one o'clock John rang the bell at the front door. "Sairy's busy," said Mrs. Bixbee apologetically as she let him in, "an' so I come to the door myself." "Thank you very much," said John. "Mr. Harum told me to come over a little before one, but perhaps I ought to have waited a few minutes longer." "No, it's all right," she replied, "for mebbe you'd like to wash an' fix up 'fore dinner, so I'll jest show ye where to," and she led the way upstairs and into the "front parlor bedroom." "There," she said, "make yourself comf'table, an' dinner 'll be ready in about ten minutes." For a moment John mentally rubbed his eyes. Then he turned and caught both of Mrs. Bixbee's hands and looked at her, speechless. When he found words he said: "I don't know what to say, nor how to thank you properly. I don't believe you know how kind this is." "Don't say nothin' about it," she protested, but with a look of great satisfaction. "I done it jest t' relieve my mind, because ever sence you fust come, I ben worryin' over your bein' at that nasty tavern," and she made a motion to go. "You and your brother," said John earnestly, still holding her hands, "have made me a gladder and happier man this Christmas day than I have been for a very long time." "I'm glad on't," she said heartily, "an' I hope you'll be comf'table an' contented here. I must go now an' help Sairy dish up. Come down to the settin' room when you're ready," and she gave his hands a little squeeze.