Her voice broke shrilly on the last words, and, [299] whirling, she sat down on the step, flinging her forehead upon her knees, sobbing, catching her breath, and still accusing. "I don't know why I come here this-a-way, a-hangin' around after you!" she stormed. "Hit's jest like it's always been--I cain't he'p myself. The good Lord! What's Callisty Gentry thinkin' of?--her that had you, and wouldn't keep you!" Silence. The hound curled down at her feet. Cindy, pulling loose from her tether, cropped the roadside grass with steady, even bites. Callista's hollyhocks nodded by the doorstone. In the room there Callista's hand showed everywhere. The Derf girl sobbed herself quiet. "Lance," she said heavily at length, getting to her feet, "I'm a-goin' to leave the Turkey Tracks. You won't see me no more. I"--she stood and listened long--"well, good-bye. Lance." She halted down the steps, her glance over her shoulder in the vacant room, so like the empty expressionless face Lance used to turn to her and her blandishments. She got to Cindy and prepared to mount. Again she waited, with her hand caught in the filly's mane; but there came no answer from the doorway, no sound nor movement in the house. She climbed droopingly to the saddle, and took the homeward trail. [300] CHAPTER XXI. FLENTON HANDS. LANCE CLEAVERAGE'S wife had been many weeks in the home of her grandfather when it was noticed that Flenton Hands made occasion to come very frequently to the Gentry place. Ajax was well off, for the mountains, and they had always been hospitable; there was much coming and going about the farm; yet the presence of this visitor could not but be noted. "I reckon you'll have to speak to him. Pappy," Octavia said finally. "I had it on the end of my tongue to name it to him the other day that hit don't look well for him to come back here a-hangin' around the wife of a man that has threatened him. I know in my soul that Lance Cleaverage would not want more than a fair excuse to--Well, an' I couldn't blame him, neither." It was evident to all that Octavia Gentry, though now as ever she loved her daughter above everything, could not find it in her soft heart to censure Lance. Indeed that heart bled for him and the sufferings she felt sure were his. It chanced that Ajax spoke to his frequent guest the next day and in the presence of his daughter-in-law. Flenton had come on one of his aimless visits; [301] he was sitting on the porch edge, and Callista had gathered up her baby and retreated to the weaving room, whence the steady "thump-a-chug! thump-a-chug!" of the loom came across to them. Flenton's slaty gray eyes began to wander in the direction of the sounds, and Ajax, prompted by anxious looks from Octavia, finally addressed him. "Flenton," he began, removing his pipe from his lips, and examining its filling as he spoke, "you've come here right smart of late." The visitor looked doubtfully from one to the other.