“It was that meddlesome old Mrs. Snodgrass who put me up to actin' that away,” she said, tenderly. “But I'll never do it ag'in. The idea! An' me ever' bit as happy as I was the day we married one another! Thar comes little Billy, as hard as he kin move his little fat legs. Wipe yore eyes, Pole; don't let him see you a-cryin'. He'd remember it all his life--childern are so quar. Thar, wipe 'em on my apron--no, le' _me_ do it. He's axed about you a hundred times a day. The neighbors' childern talked before him an' made him wonder.” The child, red in the face and panting, ran into his father's outstretched arms. “Whar you been, papa?” he asked. “Over to Darley, Billy,” Pole managed to say. “Are you goin' to stay at home any more, papa?” was the next query. “Yes, Billy--I hope so. What have you childern been playing with down at the branch?” “Johnny made a boat, papa, but it wouldn't swim. It sunk when he put sand on it. Will you make me a boat, papa?” “Yes, Billy.” “When, papa?” “To-morrow, Billy.” Pole pressed his rough face to the child's smooth, perspiring brow, and then put him down. “Now run and play,” he said. “I've put on some coffee to boil,” said Mrs. Baker when the child had left. “I know you want some. Pole, you look all unstrung. I never seed you so nervous. Yore hands are twitchin', an' I never seed sech a awful look in yore face. Don't you want me to cook some'n' special fer you to eat, Pole?” “Not a thing, Sally,” he gulped. “The coffee is enough.” She went into the house and came back with it. As she drew near he noted that the sun was fast going down; the shadow of the hill, to the west of the cottage, was creeping rapidly across the level field below. It would soon be eight o'clock, and then-- “Here it is,” said Sally, at his elbow. “It's as strong as I could make it. It will steady your nerves. Oh, Pole, I'm so glad you got back! I couldn't have gone through another night like the others. It would have killed me.” He raised the coffee-cup to keep from seeing her wistful, dark-ringed eyes. Night came on apace. He sat in his chair while she busied herself with heeding and putting the children to bed. Her voice rang with joy and relief as she spoke to them; once she sang a bar of an old ballad. It vividly recalled their courtship days. He moved his chair to the porch. He sat there awhile, and then went to feed his horse and cattle, telling himself, the while, that he had made his wife do his work for the past ten days that he might sink to the level of a beast. After supper the two sat together in the moonlight on the porch, he silent, she talkative and full of joy. The old-fashioned clock on the mantel within struck seven. He waited about half an hour longer, and then he rose to his feet. “I want to go to the store and see Nelson Floyd,” he said. “I'll be back inside of an hour, sure.” She stared at him irresolutely for a moment, then she uttered a low groan.