t it did not spoil her life. She was a good mother
end a good wife and all that, but she was always sad, and sweet, and
gentle, and I think her voice was the most beautiful in the world."

"She was game, all right," Billy approved.

"And my father never married. He loved her all the time. I've got a
lovely poem home that she wrote to him. It's just wonderful, and it
sings like music. Well, long, long afterward her husband died, and then
she and my father made their love marriage. They didn't get married
until 1882, and she was pretty well along."

More she told him, as they stood by the gate, and Saxon tried to think
that the good-bye kiss was a trifle longer than just ordinary.

"How about nine o'clock?" he queried across the gate. "Don't bother
about lunch or anything. I'll fix all that up. You just be ready at
nine."

CHAPTER IX

Sunday morning Saxon was beforehand in getting ready, and on her
return to the kitchen from her second journey to peep through the front
windows, Sarah began her customary attack.

"It's a shame an' a disgrace the way some people can afford silk
stockings," she began. "Look at me, a-toilin' and a-stewin' day an'
night, and I never get silk stockings--nor shoes, three pairs of them
all at one time. But there's a just God in heaven, and there'll be some
mighty big surprises for some when the end comes and folks get passed
out what's comin' to them."

Tom, smoking his pipe and cuddling his youngest-born on his knees,
dropped an eyelid surreptitiously on his cheek in token that Sarah was
in a tantrum. Saxon devoted herself to tying a ribbon in the hair of one
of the little girls. Sarah lumbered heavily about the kitchen, washing
and putting away the breakfast dishes. She straightened her back from
the sink with a groan and glared at Saxon with fresh hostility.

"You ain't sayin' anything, eh? An' why don't you? Because I guess you
still got some natural shame in you a-runnin' with a prizefighter. Oh,
I've heard about your goings-on with Bill Roberts. A nice specimen he
is. But just you wait till Charley Long gets his hands on him, that's
all."

"Oh, I don't know," Tom intervened. "Bill Roberts is a pretty good boy
from what I hear."

Saxon smiled with superior knowledge, and Sarah, catching her, was
infuriated.

"Why don't you marry Charley Long? He's crazy for you, and he ain't a
drinkin' man."

"I guess he gets outside his share of beer," Saxon retorted.

"That's right,"