his feet with the first
understanding of his suggestion the tall man laid a firm hand on him.
"Better let Brother Elias have the first show, Mr. Jones," he drawled;
"seems no more'n proper respect to pay the gospel."

So both men waited ten minutes or more, the Honorable Calvin glowering
and fidgeting, while Uncle Ambrose, whatever his inner stirrings,
remained imperturbably calm until, seeing a stout figure returning to
unhitch his pony, with his face wearing an expression more of sorrow
than of anger, Mr. Jones waited for no further advice.

Left alone, Uncle Ambrose betrayed his real feelings. First, he looked
at himself in a small triple mirror on the mantel, carefully combing
with a little pocket comb the thin hairs well to the front of his head
over his increasing bald spot, and afterward he walked restlessly about
the great room, finally arriving at the window. It was always Calvin
Jones he had feared. "Good looks and a silver tongue! Lord, what a
combination!"

The sun was now going down at the edge of the Kentucky landscape, in the
fields the grain had been cut and stacked and golden pumpkins were lying
between the piled up mounds of hay and corn. Over the tips of the grass,
which still showed green, autumn leaves were swirling, and hovering
above, and through it all a fine, thin mist which might be the coming
blight of winter or the lingering spirit of the summer's warmth.

Crossing a meadow and moving toward a big red barn, Uncle Ambrose soon
spied Sam driving a long line of cows toward home. With a leap his long
legs carried him out the window and swiftly across the yard. "Hullo!" he
cried while still some distance away.

The boy's face reddened, but this time from sheer pleasure. "Hullo!" he
cried, all his sullenness and resentment gone. And in a few moments the
older man's lean, strong fingers held the boy's short stocky hand in a
hard clasp. "I am glad fer you clean through," he said simply.

The boy's head jerked toward the house. "Has she told you?" he asked.
"It's powerful kind of her when she ain't even liked me."

"Kind?" Uncle Ambrose frowned. "Why, boy, she's plumb magnificent!" And
here he curveted a few steps to the side. "Lord! ain't it splendid--life
so full of good things happenin' every minute!" Stopping, he gazed
steadily and curiously into the eyes of the young man near him, while
the cows wondering at the delay pressed their sweet smelling bodies
against each other and muzzled their