ith a wipe of his dirty palm and threw the potato into a heap
in the corner.

"What for?" Billy Louise demanded, watching Jase reach languidly out
for another potato.

"She seen me diggin' bait," Jase said tonelessly. "I did think some of
ketchin' a mess of fish before I went to sproutin' p'tatoes, but Marthy
she don't take no int'rest in nothin' but work."

"Are the fish biting good?" Billy Louise glanced toward the wider
stream, where it showed through a gap in the alders.

"Yes-s, purty good now. I caught a nice mess the other day; but
Marthy, she don't favor my goin' fishin'." The lean hands of Jase
moved slowly at his task. Billy Louise, watching him, wondered why he
did not hurry a little and finish sooner. Still, she could not
remember ever seeing Jase hurry at anything, and the Cove with its
occupants was one of her very earliest memories.

"Say, I'll dig some more bait, and then we'll go fishing; shall we?"

"I--dunno as I better--" Jase's hand hovered aimlessly over the potato
pile. "I got quite a lot sprouted, though--and mebby--"

"I'll lock you in till I get the bait dug," suggested Billy Louise
craftily. "And you work fast; and then I'll let you out, and we'll
lock the door agin, so Marthy'll think you're in there yet."

"You're sure smart to think up things," Jase admired, smiling
loose-lipped behind his scraggly beard, that was fading with the years.
"I dunno but what it'd serve Marthy right. She ain't got no call to
lock the door on me. She hates like sin t' see me with a fish-pole in
m' hand--but she's always et her share uh the messes I ketch. She
ain't a reasonable woman, Marthy ain't. You git the bait. I'll show
Marthy who's boss in this Cove!"

He might have encouraged himself into defying Marthy to her face, in
another five minutes of complaining. But the cellar door closed upon
him with a slam. Billy Louise was not interested in his opinion of
Marthy; with her, opinions were valueless if not accompanied by action.

"I never thought to ask him about Minervy," occurred to her while she
was relentlessly dragging pale, fleshly fishworms from the loose black
soil of Marthy's onion bed. "But I know she was mean to Minervy.
She's awful mean to Jase--locking him up in the root cellar just 'cause
he wanted to go fishing. If I was Jase I wouldn't sprout a single old
potato for her. My goodness, but she'll be mad when she opens the
cellar door and Jase ain't in there; I--guess