"Oh THAT way," he said, but he kept looking at it, so he made me think if I hadn't been there, he would have thrown a stone or hit it with a stick. It is perfectly wonderful about how some men can't get along without killing things, such little bits of helpless creatures too. I thought he'd better be got from the jungle, so I invited him to see the place at the foot of the hill below our orchard where some men thought they had discovered gold before the war. They had been to California in '49, and although they didn't come home with millions, or anything else except sick and tired, they thought they had learned enough about gold to know it when they saw it. I told him about it and he was interested and anxious to see the place. If there had been a shovel, I am quite sure he would have gone to digging. He kept poking around with his boot toe, and he said maybe the yokels didn't look good. He said our meadow was a beautiful place, and when he praised the creek I told him about the wild ducks, and he laughed again. He didn't seem to be the same man when we went back to the road. I pulled some sweet marsh grass and gave his horse bites, so Mr. Pryor asked if I liked animals. I said I loved horses, Laddie's best of all. He asked about it and I told him. "Hasn't your father but one thoroughbred?" "Father hasn't any," I said. "Flos really belongs to Laddie, and we are mighty glad he has her." "You should have one soon, yourself," he said. "Well, if the rest of them will hurry up and marry off, so the expenses won't be so heavy, maybe I can." "How many of you are there?" he asked. "Only twelve," I said. He looked down the road at our house. "Do you mean to tell me you have twelve children there?" he inquired. "Oh no!" I answered. "Some of the big boys have gone into business in the cities around, and some of the girls are married. Mother says she has only to show her girls in the cities to have them snapped up like hot cakes." "I fancy that is the truth," he said. "I've passed the one who rides the little black pony and she is a picture. A fine, healthy, sensible-appearing young woman!" "I don't think she's as pretty as your girl," I said. "Perhaps I don't either," he replied, smiling at me. Then he mounted his horse. "I don't remember that I ever have passed that house," he said, "without hearing some one singing. Does it go on all the time?" "Yes, unless mother is sick." "And what is it all about?" "Oh just joy! Gladness that we are alive, that we have things to do that we like, and praising the Lord." "Umph!" said Mr. Pryor. "It's just letting out what our hearts are full of," I told him. "Don't you know that song: "'Tis the old time religion And you cannot keep it still?'" He shook his head. "It's an awful nice song," I explained. "After it sings about all the other things religion is good for, there is one line that says: 'IT'S GOOD FOR THOSE IN TROUBLE.'"