"Mr. Walker," he answered impressively, "in every village there is always a meddlesome old maid who invariably says things she'd better not, and ours is no exception. In this case it was a dependent of our family who took a dislike to Chip, it seems, and her escapade was its outcome." "Wal, ye've got to hev charity for 'em," replied Uncle Jud with a broad smile. "Never havin' suffered the joys 'n' sorrows o' love, they look at it sorter criss-cross, an' mebbe this 'un did. Old maids are a good deal like cider--nat'raly turn into vinegar. What wimmin need more'n all the rest is bein' loved, 'n' if they don't get it, they sour up in time an' ain't no comfort to themselves nor nobody else. Then ag'in, not havin' no man nor no babies to look arter, they take to coddlin' cats 'n' dogs 'n' parrots, which ain't nat'ral." "I think," continued Uncle Jud, "now that we've turned another furrow, you'd best stop a day or two with us, 'n' sorter git 'quainted. We'll be mighty glad to hev ye, me an' Mandy, an' then ag'in thar's a lot o' good trout holes up the brook. We hev plenty to eat, 'n' mebbe a few days here in Peaceful Valley'll sorter reconcile ye to leavin' the gal with us." And nothing loath, Martin accepted. Aunt Mandy and Chip now bestirred themselves as never before. The dressmaker was left to her own resources, Martin and Uncle Jud rigged fish-poles and started for the brook. Chip, with pail in hand, hurried away to the fields, and when teatime arrived, the big platter of crisp fried trout, saucers filled with luscious blackberries, and ample shortcake of the same with cream that poured in clots, assured Martin that these people did indeed have plenty to eat. "How did this come to be named Peaceful Valley?" he queried, when they had all gathered around the table. "It's very appropriate." "Wal," answered Uncle Jud, "we got it from a feller that come up here paintin' picturs one summer, an'," chuckling, "'twas all we got for a month's board, at that. He was a sort o' skimpy critter, with long hair, kinder pale, and chawed tobacco stiddy. He 'lowed his name was Grahame, that he was in the show business 'n' gittin' backgrounds, as he called 'em, fer show picturs. He roved up 'n' down the brook, puttin' rocks 'n' trees 'n' waterfalls on paper, allus gittin' 'round reg'lar 'bout meal-time--must 'a' gained twenty pounds while here. An' then one mornin' he was missin', 'n' so was Aunt Mandy's gold thimble 'n' all her silver spoons. She'd sorter took to him, too, he was that palaverin' in his way." There now ensued a series a questions from Uncle Jud in regard to Old Cy--how long Martin had known him, and all that pertained to his history. It was gladly recited by Martin, together with all the strange happenings in the wilderness, the finding of Chip, the half-breed's pursuit and abduction of her, and much else that has been told.