thing now? Won't you let me tell you
that in the moonlight I bowed until my head touched the dust, worshiping
you as you stood----"

"No, not now; not until I come. And won't you respect my wishes, even if
they are foolish?"

"Now and forever, angel, your word shall be a divine law unto me."

"They are calling us," she said. "Come on."

CHAPTER XVII.

In the afternoon I went to town with the old man, to attend upon the
transfer of the property, and I slept in the wagon, conscious of Guinea
when the road was rough, and sweetly dreaming of her when there was no
jolt to disturb my slumber. It was long after midnight when we returned.
I was resolved to go early to bed, for Guinea and her mother were sadly
engaged packing a box with the bric-a-brac upon which time and
association had placed the seal of endearment.

"Now, I wonder what has become of that old lace curtain," said Mrs.
Jucklin. "I have looked everywhere and can't find it, and I know it was
in the chest up stairs."

The old man began to scratch his head.

"I don't know who could have taken it," Mrs. Jucklin went on. "It
couldn't have walked off, I'm sure. Limuel?"

"Yes, ma'm."

"Do you know what has become of that old curtain?"

"What, that ragged old thing that wan't worth nothin'?"

"Worth nothin'! Why, it belonged to my grandmother."

"I never heard of that before."

"Oh, yes, you have, and what's the use of talkin' that way? You've known
it all the time."

"News to me," said the old man.

"It's not news to you, anything of the sort; but the question is, do you
know what has become of it?"

"Susan, in this here life many things happen, things that we wish hadn't
happened. I am not sorry that they fit to a finish, for that had to be;
but I am sorry that I wrapped 'em in that curtain when I buried 'em."

"Gracious alive, what has possessed the man! Oh, you do distress me so.
How could you do such a thing, Limuel? I do believe you have gone daft.
But you go right out there now and dig up them good-for-nothin' chickens
and bring me that curtain. Go right on this minit."

"What, Susan, and rob the dead and the brave? You wouldn't have me do
that."

"Go on, I tell you, or I'll go myself, and throw the fetchtaked things
over to the hogs. The idee of wrappin' up them cruel, good-for-nothin'
things in a curtain like that. Oh, I never was so provoked in my life."

The old man got up and stretched himself. "Bill," said he, "I am
somet