“Can’t tell ’bout revenues,” retorted the other. “Don’t you mind how that’n fooled everybody over on th’ bend last year? He was jest as common as common, and folks all ’lowed he was just one of ’em.” “But this one ain’t like anybody that we ever met up with, and that’s jest it,” returned Sammy. Mandy shook her head; “You say he ain’t huntin’; he sure ain’t buyin’ cattle this time o’ year; and he ain’t a wantin’ t’ locate a comin’ in on foot; what else can he be but a revenue?” To which Sammy replied with an unanswerable argument; “Look a here, Mandy Ford; you jest tell me, would a low down revenue ask a blessin’ like Parson Bigelow does?” At this Mandy gave up the case, saying in despair, “Well, what is he a doin’ here then? ’Tain’t likely he’s done come into th’ woods fer nothin’.” “He told Old Matt that he was sick and tired of it all,” answered the other. “Did he look like he was ailin’?” Sammy replied slowly, “I don’t reckon it’s that kind of sickness he meant; and when you look right close into his eyes, he does ’pear kind o’ used up like.” In connection with this discussion, it was easy to speak of Miss Lane’s fairy prospects, for, was not the stranger from the city? and was not Sammy going to live in that land of wonders? The two girls were preparing for the night, when Sammy, who was seated on the edge of the bed, paused, with one shoe off, to ask thoughtfully, “Mandy, what is love, anyhow?” Mandy looked surprised. “I reckon you ought to know,” she said with a laugh; “Ollie’s been a hangin’ ’round you ever since I can remember.” Sammy was struggling with a knot in the other shoe lace; “Yes,” she admitted slowly; “I reckon I had ought to know; but what do you say it is, Mandy?” “Why, hit’s—hit’s—jest a caring fer somebody more’n fer ary one else in th’ whole world.” “Is that all?” The knot was still stubborn. “No, hit ain’t all. Hit’s a goin’ t’ live with somebody an’ a lettin’ him take care o’ you, ’stead o’ your folks.” Sammy was still struggling with the knot. “An’ hit’s a cookin’ an’ a scrubbin’ an’ a mendin’ fer him, an’—an’—sometimes hit’s a splittin’ wood, an’ a doin’ chores, too; an’ I reckon that’s all.” Just here the knot came undone, and the shoe dropped to the floor with a thud. Sammy sat upright. “No, it ain’t, Mandy; it’s a heap more’n that; it’s a nursin’ babies, and a takin’ care of ’em ’till they’re growed up, and then when they’re big enough to take care o’ themselves, and you’re old and in the way, like Grandma Bowles, it’s a lookin’ back over it all, and bein’ glad you done married the man you did. It’s a heap more’n livin’ with a man, Mandy; it’s a doin’ all that, without ever once wishin’ he was somebody else.”