“Oh, come off!” Warren sharply deprecated. “That's beyond reason. I used to be proud. In fact, I reckon that's what drawed me so much to your mother. I pitied her because your daddy made so little headway, but look at me now. Lord, Lord, jest look! Why, he was a _king_ beside me. I've plumb lost my grip.” “I see--I know what you mean,” Paul said, sympathetically, “but you are going to get it back, Jeff, and I'm going to do all I can to help. Is my mother in the house?” “No; the calf got to the cow, an' the two wandered off somewhar. Your ma is down in the meadow close to the swamp tryin' to find 'em.” “And my aunt?” “Oh, Mandy--why, you see”--Jeff appeared to be embarrassed anew--“you see, Mrs. Tobe Williams, who lives over in town, driv' by this evenin' about an hour by sun, and--and said she'd had so much trouble gettin' a woman to--to cook for her big family o' children that, if Mandy wouldn't mind helpin' her out in a pinch, she would pay well for it. I put my foot down ag'in it, but Mandy wouldn't listen to reason, an' got in the buggy and went. It seemed to me that was my last straw. If killin' myself would aid anybody the least bit I'd gladly--” Warren's voice broke, and he stood quivering from head to foot in the effort to control his emotion. Paul advanced and extended his hand. “We must be friends, Jeff,” he said, with feeling. “Between us, we can make both of them happy.” “Between us! You say--” Warren clasped the outstretched hand and clung to it as if for some sort of support in the strange new storm which was tossing him as he had never been tossed before. “I can't make you out, Paul,” he fairly sobbed; “by God, I can't! Seems like you are foolin', an' then ag'in I know you ain't--yes, I _know_ you ain't!” “No, I'm in earnest,” Paul returned. “Do you think my mother will be back soon?” “Yes; but you stay here an' let me step down whar she's at,” Warren proposed, considerately. “She ain't so well--in fact, she might get upset if--if she saw' you all of a sudden. I'll run down an'--an' tell her you are friendly. That'll be the main thing. She's been afraid you an' me would act the fool ag'in. She will be relieved and astonished. You wait here. I'll go tell 'er.” When Warren had stalked away in the gloom Paul went to the cabin-door and glanced within. The pine-knots burning under the open fire of logs, the ends of which rested on stones, lighted the poor room, from which musty odors emerged, and he shuddered and turned away. Passing around the cabin, he approached the neat cottage near by. He went up on the little vine-clad porch and peered through the window's and side-lights of the door. Putting his hand into his pocket, he took out a key, and, thrusting it into the lock, he opened the door and entered. Striking a match, he held it above his head and went into all the rooms. CHAPTER XVII