“I told him how I’d waited all night fer him, an’ he jest groaned. He had ’em wery bad. I mind oncet readin’ in the weemen’s column in the paper how spilt milk could be sopped up with a sponge. It seemed jest ez tho’ that was what we was doin’ ’hen we went over to Flower’s that mornin’. It was wery early an’ we’d a long time to wait ’fore Melissy come down to git breakfast. Then Hen an’ me stepped inter the kitchen. “I thot she’d faint. “‘Why, you’re airly,’ she sais. “‘We’ve come airly a purpose, Melissy,’ sais I. ‘We wants you to choose atween us.’ “That girl must ’a’ thot a heap o’ one o’ we two--which un I don’t know, but one sure, fer she kind o’ fell agin the table, graspin’ it fer support. She raised her apron over her face an’ gasped like. “‘Take whichever one ye want,’ sais Hen kind o’ soft. “She didn’t answer. “‘Don’t keep us een suspenders,’ sais I. “Then the apron fell from her face, showin’ it all a rosy red, an’ she tells us, ‘Boys, I’m awful sorry, but you’re late. I tuk Perry last night.’ “Hen an’ me turned on our heels an’ walked out. We didn’t say nawthin’ tell we come to the fork in the road. “Hen stopped an’ wentured, ‘We’ve ben fools.’ “‘We hev,’ I sais. “‘Them town fellys doesn’t last long,’ sais he after a spell. ‘She’s like to be a widdy.’ “‘In which caset,’ sais I, our agreement stands. We notify each other ’fore we ast her.’ “‘It does,’ he answers, quiet an’ wery solemn. ‘We’ve allus ben buddies, you an’ me, an’ we allus will be.’ “Melissy Flower become a widdy ez Hen ’lowed an’ a mighty nice un, too. Perry was hardly cold tell me an’ Wheedle was over singin’ duets with her. The ole trouble come on agin fer me worse than ever, but this time I made up me mind I wouldn’t be fooled. ’Hen I could stand it no longer, I walks one night over to Wheedle’s to notify him. He wasn’t there. I’d ’a’ gone on to Flower’s but I minded our agreement an’ was true. It was a temptation, but I’d never treat no buddy o’ mine mean. I was true. It come twelve o’clock an’ they was no sign o’ him, so I went back home feelin’ a leetle heavy here.” The old man laid his hand across the watch-pocket of his waistcoat. “Next day they was a postal in the mail fer me. It was from Hen, an’ it run like this: ‘I’m on me way to Flower’s to ast her. I drop this in the box to notify you ez I promised.’ “That’s the way he give me notice. While I was waitin’ to notify him right, he was astin’ her. He done wrong. His conscience was agin him, fer ’hen I went over to his placet to give him an idee what I thot, I found him an’ she hed gone--gone over the mo’ntain yander.” The Patriarch arose and shook his stick angrily at the distant hills. He shook it until his strength had given out and his anger had ebbed away. “That was forty year ago,” he said after a long silence, “but ef ever Hen Wheedle comes back I’ll lay this here right hand in hisn an’ say, ’Hen, you done wrong, but you’ve suffered innardly. I fergive ye.’” CHAPTER XV.