ter begin to cackle over it," said she, speaking in solemn
reproof, as if addressing a child, "for Joe he'll just about cut your
sassy old head clean off! If he don't do that, he'll trim down that wing
of yourn till you can't bat a skeeter off your nose with it, you
redick-lous old critter!"

But it was not the threat of Joe that had drawn the cry of alarm from
the fowl. The sound of steps was growing along the path from the front
gate, and the fowl scampered off to the cover of the gooseberry vines,
as Mrs. Newbolt turned to see who the visitor was. The scissors fell
from her lap, and her spool trundled off across the porch.

"Laws, Sol Greening, you give me a start, sneakin' up like that!"

Sol laughed out of his whiskers, with a big, loose-rolling sound, and
sat on the porch without waiting to be asked.

"I walked up over the grass," said he. "It's as soft under your feet as
plowed ground. They say Joe's got one of them lawn-cutters to mow it
with?"

"Well, what if he has?" she wanted to know. "He's got a good many things
and improvements around here that you folks that's lived here for
seventy years and more never seen before, I reckon."

"He sure is a great feller for steppin' out his own way!" marveled Sol.
"I never seen such a change in a place inside of a year as Joe's made in
this one--never in my mortal borned days. It was a lucky day for Joe
when Judge Maxwell took a likin' to him that way."

Mrs. Newbolt was looking away toward the hills, a dreamy cast in her
placid face.

"Yes," said she, "there's no denyin' that. But Joe he'd 'a' got along,
Judge Maxwell or no Judge Maxwell. Only it'd 'a' been slower and harder
for him."

"He would 'a'," nodded Sol, without reservation. "No discountin' on
that. That boy beats anything this here country ever perduced, barrin'
none, and I ain't sayin' that, either, ma'am, just to please you."

"Much thanks I owe you for what you think of Joe!" said she, scornfully.
"You was ready enough, not so very long ago, to set the whole world
ag'in' him if you could."

"Well, circumstantial evidence--" began Sol.

"Oh, circumstantial nest-eggs!" said she, impatiently. "You'd known Joe
all his life, and you know very well he didn't shoot Isom Chase any more
than you done it yourself!"

"Well, mistakes is humant," sighed Sol, taking advantage of that
universal absolution. "They say Judge Maxwell's goin' to leave
everything he's got to Joe, and he's got a considerable, I r