Mrs. Purvine pondered on this for a moment. She forgot it in her effort to persuade the young fellow to accept the hospitalities of the spare bedroom, of which she was so proud. “Ye kin jest stay in thar all night, Mink, an’ all ter-morrer. Ye won’t wake up fur no breakfus’ arter the tramp ye hev hed, an’ a long sleep’ll ease yer bones. An’ ter-morrer night, ’bout ten o’clock, arter all the chill’n hev gone ter sleep I’ll gin ye a good meal, an’ ye kin set out, heartened up an’ strong. I’d ruther Jerry an’ the boys didn’t know ’bout yer bein’ hyar, ’kase I dunno what the law does ter folks ez holps them ez be runnin’ from jestice—or injestice; ’bout the same thing, ez fur ez I kin make out. An’ I don’t want them ter git inter trouble.” “Mebbe the sher’ff’ll kem arter you-uns,” Mink warned her. “Waal, I’ll tell him I ain’t got no time to waste, an’ ter take himself off the way he kem;” and Mrs. Purvine dismissed the imaginary officer with a lofty sniff. It seemed to Mrs. Purvine, the next day, that many immediate requisites were stowed away temporarily in the bedroom. She was continually on the alert to prevent Jerry or the boys from invading it. “Keep out’n that thar bedroom. I ain’t keerin’ ef ye _ain’t_ got no symblin’ seed. I ain’t goin’ ter let ye s’arch _thar_. I hev got all my fine quilts what I pieced myself—’ceptin’ with a leetle help from Lethe Sayles—a-hangin’ up thar ter air. Hang ’em up in the sun, ye say? Who d’ye reckon wants ter fade them gay colors out?” When at last Jerry desisted in deference to this new strange whim, one of the boys was beset with anxiety to get his shoes which he had set away there. “That’s the way the shoe-leather goes,—walkin’ on it,” said aunt Dely reasonably. “Naw, sir! save them soles, an’ go bar’foot. The weather’s warm now.” The youngest, the most pertinacious and hard to resist, was tumultuous to get a certain “whang o’ leather” which Bluff needed to complete his gear, in order to continue ploughing. “I ain’t a-keerin’ ef one o’ Bluff’s horns war lef’ in thar, an’ he couldn’t wink without it. I ain’t goin’ ter hev them quilts disturbed.” She presently became drowsy, because of her long vigil of the preceding night, and placed her chair before the door that no one might enter without rousing her, and thus, a solemn sentinel, she alternately knitted and nodded away the afternoon. It was a great relief to her when the house was still, the family all asleep, and the fugitive’s meal prepared. She had taken special pains with it, albeit she went about it yawningly, and had filled a tin pail with provisions that he might carry with him.