“Oh, I can't argue with you,” Pole said, stubbornly, and he turned suddenly and walked down through the store to the front. Floyd was watching him, and saw him pause on the edge of the sidewalk, his head down, as if in deep meditation. He was a pathetic-looking figure as he stood with the red sunset sky behind him, his face flushed, his hair thrown back from his massive brow. Taking his hat, Floyd went out and took him by the arm, and together they strolled down the street in the direction of Pole's farm. Presently Floyd said: “Surely you are not going to go back on me, Pole. I want you, and I want you bad.” “Thar's one thing you reminded me of in thar at the desk,” Pole said, in a low, shaky voice, “and it is this: Nelson, the little woman I married hain't never had one single hour o' puore joy since the day I tuck 'er from her daddy's house. Lord, Lord, Nelson, ef I could--ef I _jest could_ go home to 'er now an' tell 'er I'd got a lift in the world like that the joy of it 'ud mighty nigh kill 'er.” “Well, Pole”--Floyd suddenly drew him around till they stood face to face--“_you do it_. Do you hear me? _You do it_. If you don't, you will be taking an unfair advantage of a helpless woman. It's her right, Pole. You haven't a word to say in the matter. The house will be vacant to-morrow. Move her in, Pole; move the little woman in and make her happy.” The eyes of the two men met. Pole took a deep, lingering breath, then he held out his hand. “I'll go you, Nelson,” he said; “and ef I don't make that investment pay, I'll hang myself to the limb of a tree. Gee whiz! won't Sally be tickled!” They parted; Floyd turned back towards the village, and Pole went on homeward with a quick, animated step. Floyd paused at the roadside and looked after him through the gathering dusk. “He's happy, and so will his wife be,” he said to himself. “But as for me, that's another matter. She's going to marry Hillhouse. Great God, how strange that seems! Cynthia and that man living together as man and wife!” XLI IT was almost dark when Pole reached his humble domicile. The mountain air was cool, and through the front window of the living-room he saw the flare of a big, cheerful fire. He went into the house, but his wife was not in sight. Looking into the bedroom, he saw the children sound asleep, their yellow heads all in a row. “God bless 'em!” he said, fervently. “I reckon the'r mammy's down at the barn.” Going out at the back-door, he went to the cow-lot, and then he heard Sally's voice rising above the squealing of pigs and the cackling of hens. “So, so, Lil! can't you behave?” he heard her saying. “I git out o' all patience. I can't keep the brat out. I might as well give up, an' yet we've _got_ to have milk.” “What's the matter, Sally?” Pole called out, as he looked over the rail-fence.