d that, I haven't got cattle enough to pay; and
I like to ride, anyway. I've got them pretty well located along the
creek, up at the head of the canyons. The grass is coming on fine, so
they don't stray much. Are you going to turn your cattle out, Marthy?
I see you haven't yet."

"No, I ain't yit. I dunno. I was going to sell 'em down to jest what
the pasture'll keep. I'm gittin' too old to look after 'em. But I
dunno-- When Charlie gits here, mebby--"

"Oh, is that the nephew? I didn't know his name." Billy Louise was
talking aimlessly to keep her thoughts away from the pitifulness of the
sordid little tragedy in this beauty-spot and to drive that blank,
apathetic look from Marthy's hard eyes.

"Charlie Fox, his name is. I hope he turns out a good worker. I've
never had a chance to git ahead any; but if Charlie'll jest take holt,
I'll mebby git some comfort outa life yit."

"He ought, to, I'm sure. And everyone thinks you've done awfully well,
Marthy. What can I do now? Wash the dishes and straighten things up,
I guess."

"You needn't do nothin' you ain't a mind to do, Billy Louise. I don't
want you to think you got to slop around washin' my dirty dishes. I'm
goin' on down into the medder and work on a ditch I'm puttin' in. You
jest do what you're a mind to." She picked up the shovel and went off
down the jungly path, herself the ugliest object in the Cove, where she
had created so much beauty.

Again the sympathetic soul of Billy Louise had betrayed her into
performing an extremely disagreeable task. Shudderingly she looked
into the unpleasant bedroom, and comprehending all of the sordidness of
the tragedy, spent half an hour with her teeth set hard together while
she dragged out dingy blankets and hung them over the fence under a
voluptuous plum-tree. The next hour was so disagreeably employed that
she wondered afterward how even her sympathy could have driven her to
the things she did. She carried more water, after she had scrubbed
that bedroom, and opened the window with the aid of the hammer, and set
the tea-kettle on to heat the dish-water. Then, because her mind was
full of poor, dead Jase, she took the branches of wild cherry and
hawthorn blossoms she had gathered coming down the gorge and went up
the slope to lay them on his grave.

She sat down on the rock where Marthy had rested after digging the
grave, and with her chin in her two cupped palms, stared out across the
river at