"Lordie! what good sleep they do have!" Silas said, holding out his finger to the little red hand extended toward him, and then withdrawing it suddenly. "Now, Liza Ann sleeps just like that t' this day." He spoke hesitatingly, as if searching for a topic of conversation. "She does 'er work regular like, an' she sleeps as regular as she works. I often think what a satisfyin' sort of life she leads, anyhow. She tends t' 'er own business an' she don't tend t' nobody else's, an'--an'--she ain't got no more on 'er mind 'n that there baby." Elizabeth gathered the child into her arms and seated herself in a rocking chair, while the old man sat stiffly down on the edge of the lounge and continued: "Now I ain't that way, you know. I have a most uncomfortable way of gettin' mixed up in th' affairs of others." "But it's always a friendly interest," Elizabeth interposed, mystified by his curious manner and rambling conversation. Silas crossed his knees and, clasping his hands about the uppermost one, rocked back and forth on the edge of the lounge. "Most allus," he admitted, "but not quite. Now I'm fair ready t' fight that new Mis Hansen. I've been right fond of Luther, for th' short time I've knowed 'im, but what he see in that there Sadie Crane's beyond me. _He's_ square. He looks you in th' face 's open 's day when he talks t' you, an' you know th' ain't no lawyer's tricks in th' wordin' of it. But she's different. They was over t' our house Sunday 'fore last an' I never knowed Liza Ann t' be's near explodin' 's she was 'fore they left. It done me right smart good t' see 'er brace up an' defend 'erself. I tell you Mis Hansen see she'd riled a hornet 'fore she got away. Liza Ann 'll take an' take, till you hit 'er just right, an' then--oh, my!" Silas ended with a chuckle. "After they left, she just told me I could exchange works with somebody else; she wasn't goin' t' have that woman comin' t' our house no more." "Sadie is awfully provoking," Elizabeth admitted, "but--but--Luther likes her, and Luther is a good judge of people, I always thought." "Yep," Silas admitted in return, "an' I don't understand it. Anyhow, I never knew Liza Ann come s' near forgettin' 'erself. It was worth a day's travel t' see." They talked of other things, the baby dropped asleep in its mother's arms, and Silas took his departure. "How unlike him," Elizabeth said to herself as she watched him go to his wagon. Silas rode away in an ill-humour with himself. "Now there I've been an' talked like a lunatic asylum," he meditated. "I allus was that crazy about babies! Here I've gone an' talked spiteful about th' neighbours, an' told things that hadn't ought t' be told. If I'd a talked about that baby, I'd 'a' let 'er see I was plum foolish about it--an' I couldn't think of a blessed thing but th' Hansens." He rode for a while with a dissatisfied air which gave way to a look of yearning.