There was no need of a fence on the side of the house where the bog lay. No one but a plumb fool would ever attempt to get away by that hazardous route, Peter reasoned. Not by chance had he demonstrated the bog's resistless suction to the children that morning. He now made a noise that might have been meant for a chuckle but which sounded more like the grunt of an animal at the recollection of his cleverness. "I 'low they'll remember thet a spell," he muttered aloud, "an' they'll tell t'others." "Hey?" said Maria, thinking he was addressing her. The interruption passed unheeded. Peter placed one of the boards across a chunk of wood and bent himself to the task of sawing it the desired length. Maria was already sitting listlessly upon the other boards, gazing vacantly into space, her hands resting limply on her knees. Peter raised his head as the severed end of the plank fell to the ground. "Git up thar," he commanded, "an' do es I tell yo'. H'ist up thet end whilst I nail this-un in place." Maria pulled her lean frame upright, took hold of the board and, stretching her arms as high above her head as she was able, held it against an upright already in place, while Peter nailed it in position. She asked no questions. He vouchsafed no remarks. Thus occupied, the long absence of the children was unheeded. Ambrose ultimately joined his parents, sitting down in the dirt and amusing himself digging a hole with a stick. It was evident that the fence repair and extension work would not be completed at one time. The farther the work progressed the more grimly eager Peter became to behold the finished structure. After a time he told Maria to go to the house and get something ready to eat. There she came upon Mollie and Stephen, seated forlornly upon the step. They were snuggled close together, like two motherless kittens, as if to strengthen and encourage one another. They rose at Maria's approach and stood aside, expectant. Mollie's little face was strained out of its natural shape in her desperate effort to keep back the tears which welled into her eyes as the harsh, forbidding country woman bore down upon them. Stephen tucked the child's tiny hand within his own, scarcely larger, and nerved himself for whatever fate held in store for the immediate future. To their surprise, Maria passed them without a word and entered the house, the door of which stood open. Two chickens scurried out and ran, cheeping and squawking, across the yard. The next moment Maria reappeared at the door. Her initial preoccupation had been due to her desire to replenish her snuff dip. She was now thinking of less important things. "Yo' Mollie," she called, "come in hyar an' lay th' table. Steve, yo' g'wan down ter th' 'tater patch an' fetch a mess o' 'taters." Mollie hesitated, loath to leave Stephen's protection.