“No, no; Judy, dear, I don't hate you at all, and you must know that Auntie Sue loves you.” “Yes,” Judy nodded her head, thoughtfully. “Auntie Sue just naturally loves everybody. Hit wouldn't be no more'n nature, though, for you-all ter hate me. I sure have been poison-mean.” “But that is all past now, Judy,” said Betty Jo, heartily. “Come and sit down?” She started toward the chairs. But the mountain girl did not move, except to shake her head in refusal of the hospitable invitation. “I ain't a-goin' ter put my foot inside this house, nor set with you-all, nor nothin' 'til I've said what I done come ter say.” Betty Jo turned back to her again: “What is it, Judy?” “Auntie Sue done told me not ter let you-all er Mr. Burns see me 'til she come back. But I can't help hit, an' if I don't talk 'bout that none, I reckon she ain't a-goin' ter mind so much. You-all don't know that I seed Auntie Sue that night 'fore she went away, an' that hit was me took her ter the station with 'Old Prince,' an' brung him back, did you?” “No,” said Betty Jo, “I did not know; and if Auntie Sue told you not to tell us about it, I would rather you did not, Judy.” “I ain't aimin' ter,” Judy returned; “but Auntie Sue don't know nothin' 'bout what's happened since she went away, an' hit's that what's a-makin' me come ter you-all.” Betty Jo, seeing that the poor girl was laboring under some intense emotional stress, said, gently: “What is it that you wish to tell me, Judy? I am sure Auntie Sue will not mind, if you feel so about it.” The mountain girl's eyes filled and the tears streamed down her sallow cheeks, while her twisted shoulders shook with the grief she could not suppress, as she faltered: “My God-A'mighty! Miss Betty Jo, I--I--didn't aim ter do hit! I sure didn't! 'Fore God, I'd er let 'em kill me first, if I'd only had time ter think. But hit--hit--was me what told that there woman how Mr. Burns was Brian Kent. Hit's--hit's--me what's ter blame for gittin' her killed in the river an' him so nigh drowned. O God! O God! If he'll only git well! “An' I ain't a-feelin' toward you-all like I did, Miss Betty Jo. I can't no more. I done left them clubhouse folks, after I knowed what has happened, an' all day I been hangin' 'round here in the bresh. An' Lucy Warden she done told me, this afternoon, 'bout how you-all was takin' care of Mr. Burns, an' how you just naturally wouldn't let him die. An'--an'--I kin see, now, what hit is that makes Auntie Sue and him an' you-all so different from that there clubhouse gang an' pap an' me. An' I ain't a-wantin' ter be like I been, no more, ever. I'd a heap rather jump inter the river an' drown myself. 'Fore God, I would! An' I want ter come back an' help you-all take care of him; an' live with Auntie Sue; an'--an'--be a little might like youuns, if I kin. Will you let me, Miss Betty Jo? Will you? I most know Auntie Sue would, if she was here.”