He held the door against the dogs, and when he shut it he too was on the outer side. It was not yet quite dark; the whiteness of the snow contended with the night. The evening star showed through the rifts in the clouds, and then was obscured. The dogs were very distinct as they ran hither and thither on the snow at Alethea’s feet, while she leaned against the post of the porch and threw to them scraps from the bowl. Ben knew that his time was short. “Lethe,” he said, with a lamentable lack of tact, “I hearn ez how ye hev done gin up waitin’ fur Mink.” Her lustrous eyes seemed all undimmed by the shadows. The sheen of her hair was suggested beneath the faded shawl, drawn half over her head. What light the west could yet bestow, a pearly, subdued glimmer, was on her face. She said nothing. He lifted his hand to the low eaves of the porch,—for he was very tall,—and the motion dislodged a few flakes that fell upon her head. He did not notice them. “I hearn Mis’ Purvine ’low ye air all plumb outdone with Mink, an’ wouldn’t hev him ef he war ter ax ye agin,—an’ I reckon ye won’t see him no mo’. ’Tain’t likely, ye know. An’ Mis’ Purvine ’lowed ye hed been mightily struck with a man in Shaftesville,—a town cuss” (with acrimony), “ez war mighty nigh demented ’bout yer good looks an’ sech. Now, Lethe, ye dunno nuthin’ ’bout’n them town folks, an’ the name they hev got at home, ’mongst thar neighbors.” She looked steadily at him, never moving a muscle save to cast more scraps to the hounds, who, when their tidbits became infrequent, or were accidentally buried in the snow by inopportune movements of their paws, gamboled about to attract her attention; rising upon their hind legs, and almost dancing, in a manner exceedingly creditable to untrained mountain dogs. “An’ I ’lowed I war a tremenjious fool ter hev kep out’n the way ’count o’ Mink,—jes’ ’kase ye seemed ter set so much store by him. T’other folks mought kem in whilst I war a-holdin’ back. Nobody ain’t never goin’ ter keer fur ye like I do, Lethe. Mink don’t—never did. An’ my house air ready fur ye enny day ye’ll walk in. I got ye a rockin’-cheer the t’other day, an’ a spinnin’-wheel. It looks like home, sure enough, down thar, Lethe. I jes’ gazed at that thar rockin’-cheer afore the fire till I could fairly see ye settin’ in it. But shucks, I kin hear ye callin’ chickens roun’ thar,—‘Coo-chee, Coo-chee!’—enny time I listens right hard.” He laughed in embarrassment because of his sentimentality. “I reckon I mus’ be gittin’ teched in the head.” It was snowing again. From those stupendous heights above the Great Smoky Mountains down into the depths of Piomingo Cove the flakes steadily fell. Myriads of serried white atoms interposed a veil, impalpable but opaque, between Wild-Cat Hollow and the rest of the world. Doaks looked about him a little, and resumed suddenly:——