e Rountree is fillin' hisse'f up
on corn whiskey and givin' it out to each and every that he's goin' plumb
straight _di_-rect to the dav-il, an' all on yo' accounts--'caze you
wouldn't have 'im. Now what do you make out o' that?"

"I make out that some folks are mighty big fools," retorted Judith with
asperity. "Lace Rountree is no older than Jeff and Andy--he's two years
younger'n I am--why, he's like a child to me. I never no more thought of
Lace Rountree than I'd think of--well, not so much as I would of Little
Buck Provine."

"Uh-huh," agreed Jim Cal shaking his head dolefully, "that's the way you
talk; but you-all gals had ort to have a care how you toll fellers on.
Here's Huldy got Wade so up-tore about her that he's a-goin' to dash out
and git him a place on the railroad whar he's mighty apt to be killed up;
and you----"

"I what?" prompted Judith sharply, as he came to a wavering pause.

"Well--they was always one man that you give good reason to expect you'd
wed him. I myse'f have heared you, more'n forty times I reckon, say to
Blatch Turrentine--or if not say it in so many words, at least----"

"Cousin Jim," broke in Judith, carefully ignoring this last charge, "so
far as that Lace Rountree is concerned, did you ever know of a reckless
feller that come to no good but what he had some gal at whose door he
could lay it all? I vow I never did. They ain't a drinkin' whiskey becaze
they like it; they don't git into no interruptions becaze they're
mad--it's always 'count o' some gal that has give 'em the mitten. I'll
thank you not to name Lace Rountree to me again, nor--nor anybody else,"
as she saw his eyes wander to the sewing in her lap.

"Well, Drane's old enough to look out for hisse'f," said Jim Cal, rising
and trying his joints apparently for a movement toward home. "Ef you
choose to toll him on by takin' care of his chaps, that's yo' lookout,
and his lookout--'taint mine; but 'ef I was givin' the man advice, I'd
say to him that he might about as well take 'em home, or hunt up some
other gal to leave 'em with, 'caze yo' apt to much the chil'en and then
pop the do' in the daddy's face."

The weeks brought piecemeal confirmation of Jim Cal's dismal forebodings.
Elihu Drane took advantage of every pretext to haunt about the roof that
sheltered his children. Though he was not with the sick boy, he made the
presence of a "ketchin' town disease" in his home, reason for not coming
near the little ones, but ca