"Well, I thought better o’ Tom than that myself, but you know what the scripturs say ’bout Satan allus a-havin’ work fer idle hands ter do, an’ it’s purty well known Tom Fannin’s as lazy as his hide kin hold." "Yes, that’s so," assented his companion. Edwards stole a glance at him, shifted the tobacco around in his mouth, and then— "How does Bet take it?" he rather diffidently inquired. "That’s what’s pesterin’ me erbout the matter, Ed’ards," exclaimed Mr. Crow, dropping the last sliver from his whittling, and turning toward his companion. "Bet lows he didn’t do it; she knows in reason he didn’t, an’ ter that point she sticks." "But, man alive, the money was found in his pocket! It was this way, an’ I hearn it from Bill hisself. Him an’ Tom has been a-roomin’ together since Tom tuk an’ started to work down thar, an’ Bill one mornin’ put twenty dollars in the top er his trunk with nobody seein’ it but Tom. At dinner-time it wus gone. The men, black an’ white, wus all fer havin’ their pockets searched, an’ when they come ter Tom’s coat a-hangin’ on er bush, thar wus the money stacked down in the little pocket. Some er the boys say he turned mighty white, an’ ’lowed he didn’t know ’twas thar, an’ kep’ on denyin’ it, but the p’int is, how did it come thar then?" "I’ve tole Bet that, time an’ ag’in, but every time she sez, ’Pa, I know he didn’t take it.’" "How do you know?" says I. "’’Cause he sez so—’ as if that kin clar up the matter. Thar ain’t no reasonin’ with wimmen folks, Ed’ards." "That’s so, Jesse. If you ax ’em why they believe sech an’ sech, they’ll apt ter say ’jes’ ’cause,’ an’ that’s all the sense you kin git outen ’em." "It ain’t my fault Bet’s been a-keepin’ comp’ny long o’ Tom Fannin—it’s er puzzlin’ thing ter me how she kin like him, knowin’ he is lazy an’ sorter triflin’, but Bet’s got er head of her own," with a sudden touch of pride, and fumbling along the rail for another loose splinter. "She’s er likely gal, if I do say it ter you, Jesse Crow, an’ I’d ’a’ been mighty glad if she’d ’a’ tuk a likin’ ter Pink. She knows how ter work, an’ she ain’t afeerd ter put her hand tu it." "Her ma hain’t sp’ilt her, that’s a fact," said Mr. Crow, modestly. "Thar she comes now," he continued, raising his head, and glancing across the road. She had been to the spring, and walked briskly up the path and across the dusty road, her sun-bonnet swinging from one hand, a pail of water poised evenly on her head. Her black hair hung in a thick braid down her back, the sun had tanned her skin to a fine brown, but there was a ruddy glow in her cheeks, and full, firm lips. Her bright, steady eyes were dark gray, and when she smiled two rows of even white teeth were disclosed to view.