With his high cracked laugh the old man leaned over, his outspread hand hovering about the plump baby, uncertain where, in so much soft fatness, it might be practicable to clutch him. There were some large horn buttons on the back of his frock, a half-dozen of which, gathered together, afforded a grasp. He lifted the child by them, laughing in undisguised pleasure to feel the substantial strain upon the garment. “Toler'ble survigrus,” he declared, with his high chirp. His daughter suddenly sprang up with a pallid face and a pointing hand. “The winder!” she huskily cried--“suthin's at the winder!” But when they looked they saw only the dark square of tiny panes, with the fireside scene genially reflected on it. And then she fell to declaring that she had been dreaming, and besought them not to take down their guns nor to search, and would not be still until they had all seemed to concede the point; it was she who fastened the doors and shutters, and she did not lie down to rest till they were all asleep and hours had passed. None of them doubted that it was Absalom's face that she had seen at the window, where the light had once lured him before, and she knew that she had dreamed no dream like this. ***** It soon became evident that whenever Joe Boyd was intrusted with a message he would find means to deliver it. For upon him presently devolved the difficult duties of ambassador. The first time that his honest square face appeared at the rail fence, and the sound of his voice roused Evelina as she stood feeding the poultry close by, she returned his question with a counter-question hard to answer. “I hev been up the mounting,” he said, smiling, as he hooked his arms over the rail fence. “Abs'-lom he say he wanter know when ye'll git yer visit out an' kem home.” She leaned her elbow against the ash-hopper, balancing the wooden bowl of corn-meal batter on its edge and trembling a little; the geese and chickens and turkeys crowded, a noisy rout, about her feet. “Joe,” she said, irrelevantly, “ye air one o' the few men on this yearth ez ain't a liar.” He stared at her gravely for a moment, then burst into a forced laugh. “Ho! ho! I tell a bushel o' 'em a day, Eveliny!” He wagged his head in an anxious affectation of mirth. [Illustration: Why'n't ye gin dad them messages 119] “Why'n't ye gin dad them messages ez Abs'lom gin ye from me?” Joe received this in blank amaze; then, with sudden comprehension, his lower jaw dropped. He looked at her with a plea for pity in his eyes. And yet his ready tact strove to reassert itself. “I mus' hev furgot 'em,” he faltered. “Did Abs'lom ever gin 'em ter ye?” she persisted. “_Ef he did_, I mus' hev furgot 'em,” he repeated, crestfallen and hopeless. She laughed and turned jauntily away, once more throwing the corn-meal batter to the greedily jostling poultry. “Tell Abs'lom I hev fund him out,” she said. “He can't sot me agin dad no sech way. This be my home, an' hyar I be goin' ter 'bide.”