As spring verged into summer, Uncle Sheba yielded more and more to the lassitude of the season. His "bobscure 'fliction" seemed to grow upon him, if it were possible to note degrees in his malady, but Aun' Sheba said, "'Long as he is roun' like a log an' don' bodder me I is use' ter it." He even began to neglect the "prar-meetin'," and old Tobe told him to his face, "You'se back-slidin' fur as you kin slide, inch or so." His son-in-law, Kern Watson, had won such a good reputation for steadiness that he was taken into the fire department. When off duty he was always with "Sissy an' de chilen." Outwardly there was but slight change in Owen Clancy. He had never been inclined to make many intimate acquaintances, and those who knew him best only noted that he seemed more reserved about himself if possible, and that he was unusually devoted to business. Yet he was much spoken of in business circles, for it was known that he was the chief correspondent of the wealthy Mr. Ainsley of New York, who was making large investments in the South. Among the progressive men of the city, no matter what might be their political faith and association, the young man was winning golden opinions, for it was clearly recognized that he ever had the interest of his section at heart, that in a straightforward, honorable manner he was making every effort to enlist Northern capital in Southern enterprises. He had withdrawn almost wholly from social life, and ladies saw him but seldom in their drawing-rooms. When among men, however, he talked earnestly and sagaciously on the business topics of the hour. The evening usually found him with book in hand in his bachelor apartment. Beneath all this ordinary ebb and flow of daily life, changes were taking place, old forces working silently, and new ones entering in to complicate the problems of the future. As unobtrusively as possible, Clancy kept himself informed about Mara and all that related to her welfare. By some malign fate, as she deemed it, she would unexpectedly hear of him, encounter him on the street, also, yet rarely now, meet him at some small evening company. He would permit no open estrangement, and always compelled her to recognize him. One evening, to her astonishment and momentary confusion he quietly took a seat by her side and entered into conversation, as he might have done with other ladies present. By neither tone nor glance did he recognize any cause for estrangement between them, and he talked so intelligently and agreeably as to compel her admiration. His mask was perfect, and after an instant hers was equally so, yet all the time she was as conscious of his love as of her own.