The little band left in a body, ’almost’ thought Mrs. Tom, ’as if they was afraid of meeting some of the Little People.’ Though she herself had never seen so much as a Jack-in-the-box—as Will-o’-the-wisps are called in the West—she knew that where death is, other less familiar, even less desirable appearances may be gathered; and she did not wonder that the women clung to the companionship of the living. Long after the dusk had rendered the speakers invisible, she could hear the rise and fall of their voices. A sudden shower dashed its raindrops into her face and with a sigh she turned back into the kitchen. "Awful catchy weather," she said: she would give Leadville his supper, light the candles in Sabina’s room and then she, too, would go home. A step in the porch made her look up and she found that Jim Rosevear, his day’s work done, had followed her into the house. "Why, Jim?" She noted the raindrops on his hair and coat and that for some reason he was looking dissatisfied. "’E’ve give me my walkin’ ticket, to-day," said the young man and his eyes, on either side of that delicately bridged nose, had the hard look of a hawk’s, "so I’ve come for me wages." Mrs. Tom’s brows went up but, if she simulated surprise, she did not feel it. "Well, I shouldn’t trouble," she comforted, "you could not stop ’ere very well." That, he did not dispute. "But there’s means and ways of doin’ a thing." "’E don’t mean all ’e say, poor old villain." "’E mean this all right." He went to the heart of the matter. "’Tisn’t best ’e come meddlin’ after Gray no more, or I’ll bash ’is oogly face for’n." "Oh, I shouldn’t go quarrellin’. With ’im quietness is the best noise. Let’s ’ope ’e’ll be more sensible when ’e knows ’ow things is." She looked kindly at the man and continued to drop balm. "I’m sorry for the poor chap. ’Twas nothing but natural ’e should want to work the farm, anybody would and now ’e’ll ’av ’is chance." "Fine ’and ’e’ll make of it," said implacable youth. "Well, that’ll be ’is look-out." She headed him in another direction. "What be yer thinkin’ to do?" "I’ll talk it over with Gray to-night and, if she’s agreeable, I think I’ll take on Aunt Urs’la’s offer." The fact that Gentle Jane was just over the ridge from Trevorrick, gave Mrs. Tom a sense of impending trouble. "There’s no ’urry for that yet," she said thoughtfully, "and Gray’s terribly upset over ’er auntie’s death. Why don’t ’ee take ’er up to Plymouth for a week or two? I’m sure mv sister Ellen would be pretty and glad to ’av yer." "Well, I dunno," but his face, brightening at the suggestion, lost its hardness. Ellen Warne’s husband was in process of evolving from a carpenter into a builder and they were thriving hospitable folk. "I’ll see what Gray got to say about it."