"That will please her, the dear child, for she is never so happy as when doing things of this kind." "It’s good of her to remember me and she may send me more another day, if she has a mind," I answered, as if in banter and yet meaning it, for such things were hard to get in Appletop. "That she will, my dear, and bring it herself, if she may," Mrs. Singleton answered, turning to Constance. "I hope she will, for it will do Gilbert good to see his friends now," Constance spoke up, pleased with the kindness shown me; for Mrs. Singleton and her daughters were loved by every one in Appletop, because of their kind hearts and unaffected ways. When the dear lady had taken her departure, I said to Constance, remembering why the Singletons left Mississippi: "Have the girls any beaus?" "Yes, and Miss Betty more especially." "She is the worker, too." "It’s not on that account, though perhaps it is a recommendation; but her being a worker doesn’t prevent your Uncle Job going there very often." "Uncle Job, is he paying her attention?" I asked, not much surprised, remembering what I had seen at the steamboat landing. "Yes, he is desperately in love with her; and she is worthy of it, too," Constance answered. "I’m sure she is; and does she care for him?" I asked. "I think so, but she is so full of her pretty ways and love of everybody that I can’t tell. Sometimes I think she favors him very much, and then I don’t know." "Is there any one else who pays her attention?" I asked, interested at once in Uncle Job’s suit. "Yes, his partner, Mr. Rathe, is madly in love with her, they say, though she doesn’t give him any encouragement," she answered. "I didn’t know Uncle Job had a partner," I responded, surprised, I know not why, but more that there should be rivalry between them in such a matter; "what has he got a partner for, anyway?" "Papa asked him that, and he said because his business called him away so much." "Who is Rathe?" I inquired, feeling somehow a growing enmity toward him. "I don’t know—no one does, I think; but that is nothing here where most people are strangers to each other, except as they are thrown together and so get acquainted," she answered, simply. "What do you think of him?" I asked, feeling that if she liked him he must be all right. For every true woman has that strange knowledge of men that cannot go wrong, and so makes them a safe guide in such matters. Constance not answering, I added: "Or maybe you don’t know him very well?" "I have hardly seen him, and so ought not to judge," she answered, as if evading my inquiry. Thinking of what she said, I braced myself to ask a question that had been on my lips since she told me I was in Appletop, but somehow, when I would have spoken, the words stuck in my throat, as medicine sometimes will. Now, because of Uncle Job’s troubles, I determined to speak out, and so asked: "Has Moth been here?"