"I'll lay a siftin' more in the scale, Nella-Rose, on 'count o' yo' enjoyin' ways. But I can't make this out"--he was counting the eggs--"yo' said three dozen aigs?" "Three dozen, and ten pounds of pork!" This very firmly. Merrivale counted again and as he did so Nella-Rose remembered! The red came to her face--the tears to her ashamed eyes. "Stop!" she said softly, going close to the old man. "I forgot. I took one dozen out!" Merrivale stood and looked at her and then, what he thought was understanding, came to his assistance. "Who fo', Nella-Rose, who fo'?" There was no reply to this. "Yo' needn't be afraid to open yo' mind ter me, Nella-Rose. Keeping sto' is a mighty help in gettin' an all-around knowin' o' things. Folks jest naterally come here an' talk an' jest naterally I listen, an' 'twixt Jim White, the sheriff, an' old Merrivale, there ain't much choosin', jedgmatically speakin'. I know White's off an' plannin' ter round up Burke Lawson from behind, as it war. T'warnt so in my day, lil' Nella-Rose. When we-uns had a reckonin comin', we naterally went out an' shot our man; but these torn-down scoundrels like Jed Martin an' his kind they trap 'em an' send 'em to worse'n hell. Las' night"--and here Merrivale bent close to Nella-Rose--"my hen coop was 'tarnally gone through, an' a bag o' taters lifted. I ain't makin' no cry-out. I ain't forgot the year o' the fever an'--an'--well, yo' know who--took care o' me day an' night till I saw faces an' knew 'em! What's a matter o' a hen o' two an' a sack o' taters when lined up agin that fever spell? I tell yo', Nella-Rose, if _yo'_ say thar war three dozen aigs, thar _war_ three dozen aigs, an' we'll bargain accordin'!" And now the dimples came slowly to the relieved face. "I'll--I'll bring you an extra dozen right soon, Mister Merrivale." "I ain't a-goin' ter flex my soul 'bout that, Nella-Rose. Aigs is aigs, but human nater is human nater; an' keepin' a store widens yo' stretch o' vision. Now, watch out, lil' girl, an' don't take too much fo' granted. When a gun goes off yo' hear it; but when skunks trail, yo' don't get no sign, 'less it's a smell!" Nella-Rose took her packages, smiled her thanks, and ran on. She ate her lunch by the bushes where the eggs lay hidden, then depositing in the safe shelter the home bundles Merrivale had so generously weighed, she put the eggs in the basket, packed with autumn leaves, and turned into the trail leading away from the big road. Through the bare trees the clear sky shone like a shield of blue-gray metal. It was a sky open for storm to come and pass unchecked. The very stillness and calm were warnings of approaching disturbance. Nature was listening and waiting for the breaking up of autumn and the clutch of frost.