mber.

But if she showed a little too much Christian resignation, the rest of
the town was mightily stirred up over Bud's death, and every one just
quit work to tell each other what a noble little fellow he was; and how
his mother hadn't deserved to have such a bright little sunbeam in her
home; and to drag the river between talks. But they couldn't get a rise.

Through all the worry and excitement the Widow was the only one who
didn't show any special interest, except to ask for results. But
finally, at the end of a week, when they'd strained the whole river
through their drags and hadn't anything to show for it but a collection
of tin cans and dead catfish, she threw a shawl over her head and went
down the street to the cabin of Louisiana Clytemnestra, an old yellow
woman, who would go into a trance for four bits and find a fortune for
you for a dollar. I reckon she'd have called herself a clairvoyant
nowadays, but then she was just a voodoo woman.

Well, the Widow said she reckoned that boys ought to be let out as well
as in for half price, and so she laid down two bits, allowing that she
wanted a few minutes' private conversation with her Bud. Clytie said
she'd do her best, but that spirits were mighty snifty and high-toned,
even when they'd only been poor white trash on earth, and it might make
them mad to be called away from their high jinks if they were taking a
little recreation, or from their high-priced New York customers if they
were working, to tend to cut-rate business. Still, she'd have a try, and
she did. But after having convulsions for half an hour, she gave it up.
Reckoned that Bud was up to some cussedness off somewhere, and that he
wouldn't answer for any two-bits.

[Illustration: "_Elder Hoover was accounted a powerful exhorter in our
parts._"]

The Widow was badly disappointed, but she allowed that that was just
like Bud. He'd always been a boy that never could be found when any one
wanted him. So she went off, saying that she'd had her money's worth in
seeing Clytie throw those fancy fits. But next day she came again and
paid down four bits, and Clytie reckoned that that ought to fetch Bud
sure. Someways though, she didn't have any luck, and finally the Widow
suggested that she call up Bud's father--Buck Williams had been dead a
matter of ten years--and the old man responded promptly.

"Where's Bud?" asked the Widow.

Hadn't laid eyes on him. Didn't know he'd come across. Had he joined the