"Mebby you’ll ’low it’s a good deal when I tell you she’s a-goin’ to meetin’ with John, an’ a-seein’ him at singin’s an’ frolics an’ such. It’s got to be stopped, Mis’ Harding. God-a-mighty knows John’s been raised as he orter be, an’ he ain’t a-goin’ to spile it all by keepin’ comp’ny with a Harding." He stamped on the floor in mingled grief and rage, and Mrs. Long moved her chair back a few inches. The widow Harding did not move, but a curious tightness in her throat held her speechless for a moment. Could it indeed be true Sarah Betsy had so deceived her? She would not believe it. "Mister Hurd, do you s’pose I’d ’low Sarah Betsy to keep comp’ny with John?" she said, clearing her throat as she talked. "Sez Harding to me when he lay a-dyin’: ’I’m sorry to leave you, Lizy Ann, but it ain’t to be helped, fer it’s the Almighty’s will. Take keer o’ the chillun an’ do the best you can for ’em;’ an’ now, ruther than see Sarah Betsy a-throwin’ herself away on a son o’ your’n I’d be willin’ to lay her down ’longside her pa." Her voice trembled and softened. "She’s always been a good obejent child, an’ I ain’t afraid o’ trustin’ her." "But ain’t I been told p’intedly that they are courtin’ on the sly, and didn’t John ’low to me this mornin’ hisself that he’d marry Sarah Betsy if he lived? Call her and we’ll hear what she sez." "To be sure," murmured Mrs. Long, while Mrs. Harding raised her voice in a shrill call: "Sarah Betsy! Sarah Bet-see!" She came quickly from the kitchen and across the yard to the narrow entry leading to the piazza, a rift of wind blowing her short dark hair about her brow and white neck. Her face was sunburned and slightly freckled, though smooth and fresh as a nineteen-year-old face should be. Some day age, snuff-dipping and bad diet would probably make her as yellow and shriveled as her mother, but now the potent charm of youth gave her comeliness. Her brown checked homespun dress was neat, and its primitive fashion but served to show the free grace of all her movements. "Did you call me, Ma?" in a soft, slow voice; then she saw Mr. Hurd and paused. "Sarah Betsy, Mr. Hurd ’lows John an’ you has been a-keepin’ comp’ny unbeknownst to us," said her mother, looking seriously at her. Sarah Betsy cast down her eyes and was silent. "Jest speak out, Sarah Betsy," said Mr. Hurd, grimly; "your ma don’t ’pear to believe me." "No; for I ’lowed that you had always been a good child an’ wouldn’t go ag’in’ me." A quiver of strongly repressed emotion passed over the girl’s face. "Oh, Ma, it couldn’t be helped!" Mrs. Harding rose up, then sat down again, scattering the corn right and left in her agitation, while Mrs. Long shook her head compassionately, and old Killus Hurd looked sternly triumphant. "Do you mean to tell me Sam Harding’s daughter has plum’ forgot all her pa’s teachin’s?" the widow demanded, sternly.