"The teacher crossed the foot log, lifted the fretting child into her arms and drew the mother after her into the house. The room was without light, excepting from the open door; the bare, rough-hewn floor and table were spotless. One chair, a bench and an old chest of drawers was the only furniture besides the large bed with its neat, homespun blue counterpane. The hearth of the huge fireplace was swept clean, and although the middle of May, a good fire was burning. The teacher, sitting on the bench behind the table, let the little boy play with her watch, her purse, her rings, until in a wealth of happiness and satisfaction, he fell asleep in her arms. The girl-wife shifted the sleeping babe in her arms, raised her head, and with all the pathos of a hurt and ignorant child spoke her heart to the woman whom she knew would understand. "'I've fearn this thing for a long time. Las' winter befo' the baby come, I used to set befo' the fire all night long, dreadin', dreadin'--I didn't know what--this, I guess. We've been married nigh onto fou' years now, though I ain't but seventeen; Andy he's comin' nineteen. It's agen the law to marry that young, but pa he hed a big family and Andy, he was a mighty nice young man, so we fixed it all right. "'We never hed no preachin' fo' more'n three year befo' yo' all come, exceptin' when Mis' Lawson's baby died and when Ben and Lizy was married, ole Brother Bonat come over an' preached a couple o' nights. Fo' more'n year now Andy an' Jim ha' been hangin' roun' Eskin's store, an' you've never know'd 'em exceptin' as the rough men they are. When yo' all come I tho't maybe yo' could get 'em back, but it was too late. Now Jim, he's dead, and Andy--cou'se he never'd tetched Jim if he'd been hisself.' "The soft, hopeless drawl stopped, and again there was silence. Soon the sleeping children roused, the dog barked, and three men came to the doorway--the father and brothers. Without greeting, the old man said: 'Yo'd better come home, Ocie. Jim, he's dead, an' Andy'll hev to go to Moundsville, I reckon.' (Moundsville meant the state penitentiary.) The teacher helped to dismantle the poor little home and saw the few household belongings loaded on the ox sled. "The silence which she knew was more acceptable sympathy to the tearless child-woman than words would have been, was only broken when they were standing on the steps above the creek. Then the words were interrupted by the child-mother.