"Sweep the hearth, Alf," she said, pointing to a live coal that had popped out on the floor. "Didn't I tell you never to put on them chestnut logs? Do you want to burn the roof over our heads? Give it to me!" She snatched the unwieldy bundle of broomstraw from him. "Go tell Mis' Snow I'm much obleeged fer the cheers, an' ef I need any more I'll send fer um after 'while. Tell 'er ef she don't let Mary an' Ella come I'll never set foot in her house agin." "What's all this for?" asked Westerfelt. "_You_." She slapped him familiarly on the arm. "I'm goin' to give you a mount'in welcome. This settlement is full o' nice gals, an' you hain't the least idee how much excitement thar's been sence the report went out that you are gwine to live amongst us. I'm the most popular woman in Cartwright, jest beca'se I know you. I tell you I've been blowin' yore horn. I've talked a sight about you, an' you must do yore best an' look yore purtiest. Oh, yore clothes is all right!" (seeing that he was looking doubtfully at his boots and trousers). "They hain't a dressy set over heer." Her husband was leaving the room, and she waited till he had closed the door after him. "I want to talk to you like a mother, John," she said, sitting down near him and holding the bundle of broom between her knees. "The truth is, I've had a sight o' worry over you. I often lie awake at night thinkin' about you, an' wonderin' ef yore ma wouldn't blame me ef she wus alive fer not lookin' atter you more. I've heerd what a solitary life you've been livin' sence she died. God knows she wus a big loss, an' it does bring a great change to part with sech a friend, but, from what I heer, you let 'er death bother you most too much. Why, folks tell me you hain't at all like you used to be, an' that you jest stayed at home an' never went about with the young folks any more. You don't look as well as you did the last time I seed you, nuther. I reckon it's yore way o' living but you jest sha'n't do that away over heer. You've got to be natural like other young folks, an' you jest shall, ef I have anything to say in the matter. John, yore mamma was the best friend I ever had, an'--" She paused. Luke was hallooing to some one down the road, and Westerfelt heard the rumble of wheels over a distant bridge. Mrs. Bradley went to the door and went out. "They are comin', the whole caboodle of 'em!" she cried, excitedly. "I declare, I believe I enjoy a party as much as any gal that ever lived, an' at my age, too--it's shameful. I'd be talked about in some places." She laid her hands on the shoulders of her guest, her face beaming. "Now, ef you want to primp up a little an' bresh that hoss-hair off'n yore pants, go in yore room. It's at the end o' the back porch. Alf's already tuck yore saddle-bags thar." Chapter V