“Yo’ ‘re a curi’s sort of a man,” she said, with a serious kind of chuckle, as she drew her shawl up over her white head. “I wouldn’t ‘a’ done that fer a dollar. You skeered Sally out ’n a year’s growth. I used to have a boy, that went away West ten year ago, who used to fly up like you do, an’ you sorter put me in mind of him, you do. He was the best one I had. I could allus count on him fer help. He was as steady-goin’ as a clock. He never was heerd from, an’ the general belief is that he died out thar.” There was a moment’s pause. He seemed trying to think of some way to reveal his identity. “You ortn’t to pay attention to everything you hear,” he ventured, awkwardly. “Who knows? Mebby he’s still alive--sech things ain’t so almighty oncommon. Seems like I’ve heerd tell o’ a feller named Bradley out thar.” “I reckon it wasn’t Jim,” she sighed. “It was my daily prayer fer a long time that he mought come back, but thar ain’t no sech luck fer me. I’ve done give up. I am a destitute, lonely woman, an’ I cayn’t stan’ all this commotion an’ wrangle much longer. Ef I had him to work fer now, I wouldn’t keer; I’d wear my fingers to the bone; but fer people that ain’t no speck o’ kin an’ hain’t no appreciation fer what a body does it’s different.” The corners of her mouth were drawn down, and she put her thin hand up to her eyes. “I don’t b’lieve you’d know ’im ef you was to see ‘im,” he said, laughing artificially and taking her hand in his. She started. A shiver ran through her frame, and her fingers clutched his convulsively. “What do you mean?” she gasped. “Oh, my Lord, what does the man mean?” “The’ ain’t much doubt in my mind that he’s alive an’ ort to have a thousand lashes on his bare back fer neglectin’ his old mammy,” he said, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. A startled light of recognition dawned in her eyes and illumined her whole visage. She stared at him with dilating eyes for an instant, and then fell into his arms. “Oh, Jim, I declare I cayn’t stan’ it! It will kill me! It will kill me!” she cried, putting her arms about his neck and drawing his head down to her. “I’m as glad as you are, mother,” he replied, tenderly stroking her white hair with his rough hand; “no feller livin’ ever wanted to see his mammy wuss.” Then there seemed nothing further for either of them to say, and so he led her on to the house and to the chair he had left a few moments before. “I’ve let the cat out ’n the bag,” he said, shamefacedly, answering their glances of inquiry. “I had to mighty nigh tell her point-blank who I was.” “I never ‘lowed I’d see ’im ag’in,” Mrs. Bradley faltered, in a low, tearful tone. “I am that thankful my heavenly Father let me live to this day. I’d suffer it all over an’ over ag’in fer this joy.”