Catching her eye, Ethel bowed and turned in toward the hut. As she did so, the woman stepped down and came forward. The children, forsaking their play, followed and clung to her soiled skirt, eying Ethel's black dress and hat with the curiosity peculiar to their ages and station. The woman's husband, David Harris, had been confined to his bed since the preceding winter, when he had been laid up by an accident due to the falling of a tree while at work for Hoag on the mountain, and Ethel and her mother had shown him and his wife some thoughtful attention. “I stopped to ask how Mr. Harris is,” Ethel said. “My mother will want to know.” “He's a good deal better, Miss Ethel,” the woman replied, pulling her skirt from the chubby clutch of a little barefooted girl. “Oh, I'm so glad!” Ethel cried. “I suppose his new medicine is doing him good?” “No, he hasn't begun on it yet,” Mrs. Harris answered. “The old lot ain't quite used up yet. I just think it is due to cheerfulness, Miss Ethel. I never knowed before that puttin' hope in a sick body would work such wonders, but it has in Dave.” “He has been inclined to despondency, hasn't he?” Ethel rejoined, sympathetically. “My mother said she noticed that the last time we were here, and tried to cheer him up.” “Thar was just one thing that could cheer 'im, an' that happened.” “I'm glad,” Ethel said, tentatively “He seemed to worry about the baby's sickness, but the baby is well now, isn't she?” Ethel touched the child under the chin and smiled into its placid blue eyes. “No, it wasn't the baby,” the wife went on. “Dave got some'n off his mind that had been worry-in' him ever since Paul Rundel got home an' took charge o' Mr. Hoag's business. That upset 'im entirely, Miss Ethel--he actually seemed to collapse under it, an' when Mr. Hoag died he got worse.” “But why?” Ethel groped, wonderingly. “It was like this,” the woman answered. “Long time ago, when Paul an' Dave was boys together, they had a row o' some sort. Dave admits that him and his brother, Sam, who was sent off for stealin' a hoss, two year ago, acted powerful bad. They teased Paul an' nagged 'im constantly, till Paul got a gun one day an' threatened to kill 'em if they didn't let 'im alone. Then right on top o' that Paul had his big trouble an' run off, an' him an' Dave never met till--” “I see, but surely Paul--” Ethel began, perplexed, and stopped suddenly. “I was comin' to that, Miss Ethel. You see, Dave had a good regular job cuttin' an' haulin' for Mr. Hoag, an' until Paul was put in charge he expected, as soon as he was strong enough, to go back to work again. But the report went out, an' it was true, that Mr. Hoag had turned all the hirin' of men over to Paul an' refused to take a single man on his own hook.” “Oh, I see, and your husband was afraid--”