“Why, I can't keep this fool calf away,” she said, turning to him, her tin pail in her hand, her face red with vexation. “The little imp is stealin' all the milk. He's had enough already to bust 'im wide open.” Pole laughed merrily; there was much stored in his mind to make him joyous. “Let me git at the dern little skunk,” he said; and vaulting over the fence with the agility of an acrobat, he took the sleek, fawnlike creature in his strong arms and stood holding it against his breast as if it were an infant. “That's the way to treat 'im?” he cried. And carrying the animal to the fence, he dropped it on the outside. “Thar, you scamp!” he laughed; “you mosey around out here in the tater-patch till you l'arn some table manners.” Sally laughed and looked at her husband proudly. “I'm glad you come when you did,” she said, “fer you wouldn't 'a' had any milk to go on yore mush; me'n' the childem have had our supper an' they are tucked away in bed.” “Let me finish milkin',” Pole said. “An' you go in an' git my mush ready.” He took the pail and sat down on an inverted soap-box. “I'll make up fer that calf's stealin' or I'll have old Lil's bag as flabby as an empty meal-sack.” In a few minutes he followed Sally into the kitchen where she had his simple supper ready for him. When he had eaten it, he led her into the living-room and they sat down before the fire. It was only for a moment, though, for she heard little Billy talking in his sleep and sprang up and went to him. She came back to her chair in a moment. “The very fust spare money I git,” she said, “I'm goin' to have panes o' glass put in that window in thar. I keep old rags stuffed in the holes, but the rain beats 'em down, and hard winds blow 'em out. It don't take as much fire-wood to keep a tight house warm as it does an open one like this.” “Sally, we ought to live in a great big fine house,” he said, his eyes on the coals under the red logs. “I say!” she sneered. “I've been afeard some'n' mought happen to drive us out o' this 'un. Pole, to tell the truth, I've been worryin'.” “You say you have, Sally?” “Yes, I worry all day, an' sometimes I wake up in the night an' lie unable to sleep fer thinkin'. I'm bothered about the debt you owe Floyd & Mayhew. It's drawin' interest an' climbin' higher an' higher. I know well enough that Nelson wouldn't push us, but, Pole, ef he was to happen to die, his business would have to be settled up, an' they say Mr. Mayhew hain't one speck o' mercy on pore folks. When it was reported that some'n' had happened to Nelson a while back, I was mighty nigh out o' my head with worry, but I didn't tell you. Pole, we've got to git free o' that debt by some hook or crook.” “I think we kin manage it,” Pole said, his eyes kindling with a subtle glow. “That's the way you always talk,” Mrs. Baker sighed; “but that isn't payin' us out.”