"I don't see," said Henry, "that there is very much against Mr. Allen and Rose's falling in love and getting married. I think he might do worse, and I think she might. Sometimes I've looked at the two of them and wondered if they weren't just made for each other. I can't see quite what you mean, Sylvia? You don't mean to say that you don't want Mr. Allen ever to get married?" "He can marry whoever he wants to," said Sylvia, "but he sha'n't marry her." "You don't mean you don't want her ever to get married?" "Yes, I do mean just that." "Why, Sylvia, are you crazy?" "No, I ain't crazy," replied Sylvia, doggedly. "I don't want her to get married, and I'm in the right of it. She's no call to get married." "I don't see why she 'ain't got a call as well as other girls." "She 'ain't. Here she's got a good home, and everything she needs, and more, too. She's got money of her own that she had when she come here, plenty of it. I'm going over to Alford to-morrow and see if I can't find some things in the stores there for her that I think she'll like. And I'm going to get Jim Jones--he's a good hand--to see if he can't get a good, safe horse and pretty carriage for her, so she can ride out." Henry stared. "I dunno as I can take care of a horse, Sylvia," he said, doubtfully. "Nobody wants you to. I can get Billy Hudson to come. He can sleep in the chamber over the kitchen. I spoke to his mother about it, and she's tickled to pieces. She says he's real handy with horses, and he'll come for fifteen dollars a month and his board. Rose is going to have everything she wants." "Does she want a horse and carriage?" "I shouldn't think of it if I didn't s'pose she did." "What made me ask," said Henry, "was, I'd never heard her speak of it, and I knew she had money enough for anything if she did want it." "Are you grudging my spending money her own aunt left on her?" Henry looked reproachfully at his wife. "I didn't quite deserve that from you, Sylvia," he said, slowly. Sylvia looked at him a moment. Her face worked. Then she glanced around to be sure nobody saw, and leaned over and touched the shoulder of Henry's mohair coat with a little, skinny hand. "Henry," she said, pitifully. "What, Sylvia?" "You know I didn't mean anything. You've always been generous about money matters. We 'ain't never had ill feeling about such a thing as that. I shouldn't have spoke that way if I hadn't been all wrought up, and--" Suddenly Sylvia thrust her hand under her white apron and swept it up to her face. She shook convulsively. "Now, Sylvia, of course you didn't mean a blessed thing. I've known you were all wrought up for a long time, but I haven't known what about. Don't take on so, Sylvia."