“No, not to-morrow; the next day. He’s coming over here to-morrow afternoon. Then he’s going away.” Then, before Jim could ask another question, she held up the half of a ham; “Daddy, Daddy! How many times have I told you that you must not—you must not slice the ham with your pocket knife? Just look there! What would Aunt Mollie say if she saw that, so haggled and one sided?” All during the evening meal, the girl kept up a ceaseless merry chatter, changing the subject abruptly every time it approached the question that her father was most anxious to ask. And the man delighted with her gay mood responded to it, as he answered to all her moods, until they were like two school children in their fun. But, when supper was over and the work done, and Jim, taking down his violin, would have made music, Sammy promptly relieved him of his instrument, and seated herself on his knee. “Not to-night, Daddy. I want to talk to-night, real serious.” She told him then of the encounter with Wash Gibbs and his friend at the mill, together with the story that Pete had illustrated so vividly at the Lookout. “And so, Daddy,” she finished; “I know now what I shall do. He will come to-morrow afternoon to say good-by, and then he will go away again back to the city and his fine friends for good. And I’ll stay and take care of my Daddy Jim. It isn’t that he is a bad man like Wash Gibbs. He couldn’t be a bad man like that; he isn’t big enough. And that’s just it. He is too little—body, soul and spirit—he is too little. He will do well in the world; perhaps he will even do big things. But I heard dear old Preachin’ Bill say once, that ‘some fellers can do mighty big things in a durned little way.’ So he is going back to the city, and I am going to stay in the hills.” Jim took no pains to hide his delight. “I knowed it, girl. I knowed it. Bank on the old blood every time. There ain’t a drop of yeller in it; not a drop, Sammy. Ollie ain’t to say bad, but he ain’t just our kind. Lord! But I’d like to o’ seen Young Matt a givin’ it to Wash Gibbs!” He threw back his head and roared with delight. “Just wait ’till I see Wash. I’ll ask him if he thinks Young Matt would need a pry for to lift that mill engine with, now.” Then all of a sudden the laugh died out, and the man’s dark face was serious, as he said, slowly, “The boy’ll have to watch him, though. It’ll sure be war from this on; the worst kind of war.” “Daddy, what do you think Wash would have done to me, if Young Matt had not been there?” That metallic ring was in Jim’s voice, now, as he replied, “Wash Gibbs ought to knowed better than to done that. But it was a blessin’ Young Matt was there, wasn’t it? He’d take care of you anywhere. I wouldn’t never be afraid for you with him.” The girl hid her face on her father’s shoulder, as she said, “Daddy, will Wash Gibbs come here any more now? It seems to me he wouldn’t dare meet you after this.”