Mammy soliloquized when she was about her work in the kitchen. "Men ain' whut dey used to be," she said, "who'd 'a' t'ought o' de young man a runnin' off dat away jes' 'cause a ooman tol' him no. He orter had sense enough to know dat a ooman has sev'al kin's o' noes. Now ef dat 'ud 'a' been in my day he'd a jes' stayed away to let huh t'ink hit ovah an' den come back an' axed huh ag'in. Den she could 'a' said yes all right an' proper widout a belittlin' huhse'f. But 'stead o' dat he mus' go a ta'in' off jes' ez soon ez de fus' wo'ds come outen huh mouf. Put' nigh brekin' huh hea't. I clah to goodness, I nevah did see sich ca'in's on." Several weeks passed before Bartley returned to his home. Autumn was painting the trees about the place before the necessity of being at his father's side called him from his voluntary exile. And then he did not go to see Mima. He was still bowed with shame at what he thought his unmanly presumption, and he did not blame her that she avoided him. His attention was arrested one day about a week after his return by the peculiar actions of Mammy Peggy. She hung around him, and watched him, following him from place to place like a spaniel. Finally he broke into a laugh and said, "Why, what's the matter, Aunt Peggy, are you afraid I'm going to run away?" "No, I ain' afeared o' dat," said mammy, meekly, "but I been had somepn' to say to you dis long w'ile." "Well, go ahead, I'm listening." Mammy gulped and went on. "Ask huh ag'in," she said, "it were my fault she tol' you no. I 'minded huh o' huh fambly pride an' tol' huh to hol' you off less'n you'd t'ink she wan'ed to jump at you." Bartley was on his feet in a minute. "What does this mean," he cried. "Is it true, didn't I offend her?" "No, you didn' 'fend huh. She's been pinin' fu' you, 'twell she's growed right peekid." "Sh, auntie, do you mean to tell me that Mim--Miss Harrison cares for me?" "You go an' ax huh ag'in." Bartley needed no second invitation. He flew to the cottage. Mima's heart gave a great throb when she saw him coming up the walk, and she tried to harden herself against him. But her lips would twitch, and her voice would tremble as she said, "How do you do, Mr. Northcope?" He looked keenly into her eyes. "Have I been mistaken, Mima," he said, "in believing that I greatly offended you by asking you to be my wife? Do you--can you care for me, darling?" The words stuck in her throat, and he went on, "I thought you were angry with me because I had taken advantage of your kindness to my father, or presumed upon any kindness that you may have felt for me out of respect to your brother's memory. Believe me, I was innocent of any such intention." "Oh, it wasn't--it wasn't that!" she gasped. "Then won't you give me a different answer," he said, taking her hand. "I can't, I can't," she cried. "Why, Mima?" he asked. "Because--" "Because of the Harrison pride?" "Bartley!" "Your Mammy Peggy has confessed all to me." "Mammy Peggy!"