"Well, there's no doubt about it, no finer woman lives along
Providence Road than Sallie Rucker, Marthy Mayberry and Selina Lue
Lovell down at the Bluff not excepted, to say nothing of Rose Mary
Alloway standing right here in the midst of my own sweet potato
vines," said Uncle Tucker reflectively as he glanced at the retreating
figure of his sturdy neighbor, which was followed by that of the lean
and hungry poet.

"Yes, she's wonderful," answered Rose Mary enthusiastically,
"but--but I wish she had just a little sympathy for--for poetry. If a
husband sprouts little spirit wings under his shoulders it's a kind
thing for his wife not to pick them right out alive, isn't it? When I
get a husband--"

"When you get a husband, Rose Mary, I hope he'll hump his shoulders
over a plow-line the number of hours allotted for a man's work and
then fly poetry kites off times and only when the wind is right,"
answered Uncle Tucker with a quizzical smile in his big eyes and a
quirk at the corner of his mouth.

"But I'm going always to admire the kites anyway, even if they don't
fly," answered Rose Mary with the teasing lift of her long lashes up
at him. "Maybe just a woman's puff might start a man's kite sky high
that couldn't get off right without it. You can't tell."

"Yes, child," answered Uncle Tucker as he looked into the dark eyes
level with his own with a sudden tenderness, "and you never fail to
start off all kites in your neighborhood. When I took you as a bundle
of nothing outen Brother John's arms nearly thirty years ago this
spring jest a perky encouraging little smile in your blue eyes started
my kite that was a-trailing weary like, and it's sailed mostly by your
wind ever since--especially these last few years. Don't let the breeze
give out on me yet, child."

"It never will, old sweetie," answered Rose Mary as she took Uncle
Tucker's lean old hand in hers and rubbed her cheek against the sleeve
of his rough farm coat. "Is the interest of the mortgage ready for
this quarter?" she asked quietly in almost a whisper, as if afraid to
disturb some listening ear with a private matter.

"It lacks more than a hundred," answered Uncle Tucker in just as quiet
a voice, in which a note of pain sounded plainly. "And this is not the
first time I have fallen behind with Newsome, either. The repairs on
the plows and the food chopper for the barn have cost a good deal,
and the coal bill was large this winter. Sometimes, Rose Mary, I