“Oh, yes, you do, sis, lots! Uncle always gits you everything you want. And he feels terrible bad when I--when he knows he can't afford to git something you want----” “I know well enough who tells him we can't afford things!” “Well, do you want us to git things we can't afford? I ain't never advised him except the best I knew how. I told him Richards was a blow-hard, and I told him those Alliance grocery folks he bought such a lot of truck of would skin him, and they did; those canned things they sold him was all musty, and they said there wasn't any freight on 'em, and he had to pay freight and a fancy price besides; and I don't believe they had any more to do with the Alliance than our cow!” “Uncle always believes everything. He always is so sure things are going to turn out just splendid; and they don't--only just middling; and then he loses a lot of money.” “But he is an awful good man,” said the boy, musingly. “I don't believe in being so good you can't make money. I don't want always to be poor and despised, and have the other girls have prettier clothes than me!” “I guess you can be pretty good and yet make money, if you are sharp enough. Of course you got to be sharper to be good and make money than you got to be, to be mean and make money.” “Well, I know one thing, that Uncle ain't EVER going to make money. He----” The last word shrivelled on her lips, which puckered into a confused smile at the warning frown of her brother. The man that they were discussing had come round to them past the henhouse. How much had he overheard? He didn't seem angry, anyhow. He called: “Well, Evy, ready?” and Eve was glad to run into the house for her hat without looking at him. It was a relief that she must sit on the back seat where she need not face Uncle Nelson. Tim sat in front; but Tim was so stupid he wouldn't mind. Nor did he; it was Nelson Forrest that stole furtive glances at the lad's profile, the knitted brows, the freckled cheeks, the undecided nose, and firm mouth.