In the meantime, as the days passed, Teague Poteet became dimly and uncomfortably conscious that a great change had come over Sis. One day she would be as bright and as gay as the birds in the trees; the next, she would be quiet, taciturn, and apparently depressed. As Teague expressed, "One minnit hit's Sis, an' the nex' hit's some un else." Gradually the fits of depression grew more and more frequent and lasted longer. She was abstracted and thoughtful, and her petulance disappeared altogether. The contrast resulting from this change was so marked that it would have attracted the attention of a person of far less intelligence than Teague Poteet. He endeavoured to discuss the matter with his wife, but Puss Poteet was not the woman to commit herself. She was a Mountain Sphinx. "I'm afeard Sis is ailin'," said Teague, upon one occasion. "Well," replied Puss, "she ain't complainin'." "That's hit," Teague persisted; "she hain't complainin'. That's what pesters me. She looks lonesome, an' she's got one er them kinder fur-away looks in her eyes that gives me the all-overs." The Sphinx rubbed its snuff and swung in its rocking-chair. "Some days she looks holp up, an' then ag'in she looks cas' down. I 'low'd maybe you mought know what ailed her." "Men folks," said Puss, manipulating her snuff-swab slowly and deliberately, "won't never have no sense while the worl' stan's. Ef a 'oman ain't gwine hether an' yan', rippity-clippity, day in an' day out, an' half the night, they er on the'r heads. Wimmen hain't men." "That's so," replied league gravely, "they hain't. Ef they wuz, the men 'ud be in a mighty nice fix." "They'd have some sense," said Puss. "Likely so. Yit 'oman er man kin sliet one eye an' tell that Sis looks droopy, an' when Sis looks droopy, I know in reason sump'n' nuther ails her." "Well, goodness knows; I wish in my soul somebody'd shet one eye an' look at me," exclaimed Puss, with a touch of jealousy in her tone. "I traipse 'roun' this hill ontell I'm that wore out I kin skacely drag one foot alrter t'other, an' I don't never hear nobody up an' ast what ails me. It's Sis, Sis, Sis, all the time, an' eternally. Ef the calf's fat, the ole cow ain't got much choice betwixt the quogmire an' the tan-vat." "Lord, how you do run on," said the iron-grey giant, rubbing his knuckles together sheepishly. "You don't know Sis ef you go on that away. Many's the time that chile 'ud foller me up an' say, 'Pap, ef you see my shawl a-haugin' out on the fence, Puss'll be asleep, an' don't you come a-lumberin' in an' wake her up, nuther.' An' many's the time she'd come out an' meet me, an' up an' say, 'Pap, Puss has takin' an' bin a-mopin' all day long; yess you an' me go in an' fetch her up.' An' bless your life," Teague continued, addressing some imaginary person on the other side of the fireplace, "when me an' Sis sets our heads for to fetch anybody up, they er thes natchully erbleeged ter come."