"He's everywhar on the place, is Sparkes," had been said of him. "He's at dinner, 'n supper, 'n breakfast, 'n out on the porch, 'n in the bar, an' kinder sashiatin' through the whole thing. Thet thar tavern wouldn't be nothin' ef he wasn't thar." It was not to be disputed that he appeared at dinner and breakfast and supper, and that on each appearance he disposed of a meal of such proportions as caused his countenance to deepen in colour and assume a swelled aspect, which was, no doubt, extremely desirable under the circumstances, and very good for the business, though it could scarcely be said to lighten the labour of Mrs. Sparkes and her daughters, who apparently existed without any more substantial sustenance than the pleasure of pouring out cups of coffee and tea and glasses of milk, and cutting slices of pie, of which they possibly partook through some process of absorption. To the care of Mrs. Sparkes Tom confided his charge when, a short time after their arrival, he made his first pilgrimage for business purposes. "She's been on the road all day," he said, "and I won't take her out till to-morrow; so if you don't mind, I'll leave her with you until I come back. She'll be all right and happy, won't you, Sheba?" Secretly Sheba felt some slight doubt of this; but in her desire to do him credit, she summed up all her courage and heroically answered that she would, and so was borne off to the dining-room, where two girls were cutting bread and slicing ham for supper. They were Mrs. Sparkes's daughters, and when they saw the child, dropped their knives and made a good-natured rush at her, for which she was not at all prepared. "Now, mother," they cried, "whar's she from, 'n who does she b'long to?" Mrs. Sparkes cast a glance at her charge, which Sheba caught and was puzzled by. It was a mysterious glance, with something of cautious pity in it. "Set her up in a cheer, Luce," she said, "'n give her a piece of cake. Don't ye want some, honey?" Sheba regarded her with uplifted eyes as she replied. The glance had suggested to her mind that Mrs. Sparkes was sorry for her, and she was anxious to know why. "No," she answered, "no, thank you, I don't want any." She sat quite still when they put her into a chair, but she did not remove her eyes from Mrs. Sparkes. "Who does she b'long to, anyhow?" asked Luce. Mrs. Sparkes lowered her voice as she answered: "She don't b'long to nobody, gals," she said. "It's thet little critter big Tom D'Willerby from Talbot's Cross-roads took to raise." "Ye don't say. Pore little thing," exclaimed the girls. And while one of them stooped to kiss her cheek, the other hurriedly produced a large red apple, which she laid on the long table before her.