a fierce little vixen and told him that she never
wanted to see his face again, that she rued the day she married him, and
intended to leave him as soon as she could put foot to the ground.

In the gray dawn of Monday morning, when Johnnie was downstairs eating
her bit of early breakfast, Pap shambled in to make Laurella's fire.
Having got the hickory wood to blazing, he sat humped and shame-faced by
the bedside a while, whispering to his wife and holding her hand, a
sight for the student of man to marvel at. He had brought a paper of
coarse, cheap candy for Deanie, but the child was asleep. The offering
was quite as acceptable to Laurella, and she nibbled a stick as she
listened to him.

The bald head with its little fringe of grizzled curls, bent close to
the dark, slant-browed, lustrous-eyed, mutinous countenance; Pap
whispered hoarsely for some time, Laurella replying at first in a sort
of languid tolerance, but presently with little ejaculations of wonder
and dismay. A step on the stair which he took to be Johnnie's put Himes
to instant flight.

"I've got to go honey," he breathed huskily. "Cain't you say you forgive
me before I leave? I know I ain't fitten fer the likes of you; but when
I come back from this here raid I'm a-goin' to take some money out of
the bank and git you whatever you want. Look-a-here; see what I've
done," and he showed a little book in his hand, and what he had
written in it.

"Oh--I forgive you, if that's any account to you," returned Laurella
with kindly contempt. "I never noticed that forgiving things undid the
harm any; but--yes--oh, of course I forgive you. Go along; I'm tired
now. Don't bother me any more, Gid; I want to sleep."

The old man thrust the treasured bankbook under Laurella's pillow, and
hurried away. Downstairs in the dining room Johnnie was eating her
breakfast.

"Johnnie," said Mavity Bence, keeping behind the girl's chair as she
served the meal to her at the end of the long table, "I ain't never done
you a meanness yet, have I? And you know I've got all the good will in
the world toward you--now don't you?"

"Why, of course, Aunt Mavity," returned Johnnie wonderingly, trying to
get sight of the older woman's face.

Mrs. Bence took a plate and hurried out for more biscuits. She came back
with some resolution plainly renewed in her mind.

"Johnnie," she began once more, "there's something I've got to tell you.
Your Uncle Pros has got away from 'em up at the hos