"I thought you was to be the first, after my family, to hear it, Joe." "So I was. Robert told me last night." "I do hope you'll feel kindly to us." "Red to red--eh? Fire to fire when a red woman marries a red man; because it's well known when red loves red--however, I'm not one to cry danger afore it's in sight. Live and let live is my motto, and never more than now, when my own days be running out so fast." "Don't say that, Joe." Mr. Stockman's age had in fact leapt up by a decade since Melinda's refusal to marry him. He now spoke of himself as a man of seventy-five and intended to behave as such, save in the matter of his own small pleasures. He was not really regretful of the situation as it had developed, and knew exceedingly well that he would be more comfortable with Soosie-Toosie than he could have been with a wife. But he intended to get something--indeed, a good deal--out of pending changes, and designed a programme for his son-in-law that embraced more work and larger responsibility. That Thomas would be equal to the coming demands he also felt assured. Joe spoke of him now. "We must be reasonable to age. Justice the married pair will be prepared to do me; but damn it, when you be in sight of seventy-five and feel older, along of trial and disappointments, you've a right to a bit more than justice from the rising generation; and I mean to have it." "Of course you will." "As to you, I'll be your friend as before, Melinda, and Ford must understand I am so. There's something in me that holds out the hand of friendship again and again until seventy-times seven; and in your case, though it's turning the other cheek to the smiter, still I do it." "A proper living Christian, as we all know," declared Mrs. Honeysett, much relieved. She talked for some time and presently left, filled with admiration for Joe's sentiments. Then came home Susan and her husband in the best of spirits, to be gratified in their turn by the amiability of their welcome. They had often debated what form it would take, and forgot that Mr. Stockman had suffered the unexampled experience of being without his daughter for a fortnight. Both were deeply interested in the story of Lawrence and Dinah; but while Soosie-Toosie ventured to hope that the right thing had happened, Thomas took a contrary opinion. "Two wrongs don't make a right," he said, "nor yet two hundred. I speak as a man who now knows the dignity of the married state, and I think they've done a very wicked deed and will be punished for it. She's a lost creature in my opinion." "Why for, Thomas?" asked Mr. Stockman.