“Yes, Granny,” said he, “I reckon I must.” But yet he sat silent, while his wife, now lashed into a fury, reviled him in such words as need not be repeated. Granny Joslin sat and chuckled ghoulishly, her pipe between her toothless lips. “Well, go on, Meliss’,” said she. “Ye’re a-gettin’ ready for a trouncin’, ‘pears to me. Hain’t no Joslin’ll take that.” But presently her grim face turned to the man who sat there silent, staring into the ashes of the fire. “What’s the matter with ye, boy?” said she. “_Air_ ye quittin’? Tell me—have ye been actin’ up with ary other womern Outside? If ye hain’t, it’s time ye tuk an’ taken a hand now in yore own house.” “Granny,” said David Joslin suddenly, his face white in his resolution for a “true confession and not a false defense,” “there are three women in my life. Meliss’ here is one. There were two others—Outside. If you’d mean that I’ve gone wrong—for always—with either, or any other woman in the world, that’s not true. I came here to tell you the truth. What I’ve done you know—as much as you’re big enough to know or understand, Meliss’. Now, what do you mean? You say you’ve fixed me—what do you mean?” “As though I was a-goin’ to keep on standin’ it!” half screamed his wife. “I tell ye I’m through with ye as much as ye air with me. That new doctor filled yore mind with notions about our bein’ married. Well, all right!” “Yes, he did. It was wrong that we ever should have been married. But I’ve ended that as far as I could. I studied over it for a long time. What’s right for me to do? Whatever it is, I want to do it.” “I didn’t need to study so much fer my own part,” retorted she. “Thar’s lawyers as well as doctors comin’ in this way nowadays. Well, I’m a-goin’ to git me a _di_vorce, that’s what _I’m_ a-goin’ to do. I done sole the red hawg to pay the lawyer, and he done tolt me what to do.” “Ye heerd her, Davy,” said Granny Joslin, nodding her head. “I’ve knowed it. I was a-hopin’ ye’d give her a good thrashin’, though, afore she tolt ye—hit would of been more manful if ye had. But it’s true. She’s a-goin’ to git a _di_vorce—the fust time that word has ever been heerd in our fam’ly.” “Nor in mine neither,” rejoined the younger woman. “We was always fitten to be married ontel the railroads come in here—with their new doctors an’ their new lawyers. I’ve been mocked here in these mountings because my man left me, an’ because I didn’t have no fam’ly. Well, I said I fixed it. I’ve got out the papers.” “But there was no law against cousins marrying in this state,” said Joslin. “It was only a natural law we broke—that’s the pity of it all, and the awful part of it all.” “If thar was law agin hit thar’d be a heap of marriages ontied in these mountings,” said Granny Joslin.