and worn and moody than ever.
And his manner was absent and distrait. Hephzy noticed it; there were
few things she did not notice.

"Either that boy's meals don't agree with him," she announced, "or
somethin's weighin' on his mind. He looks as if he'd lost his last
friend. Hosy, do you suppose he's spoken to--to her about what he spoke
of to you?"

"I don't know. I suppose he has. He was only too anxious to speak, there
in Mayberry."

"Humph! Well, IF he has, then--Hosy, sometimes I think this, all this
pilgrimage of ours--that's what you used to call it, a pilgrimage--is
goin' to turn out right, after all. Don't it remind you of a book, this
last part of it?"

"A dismal sort of book," I said, gloomily.

"Well, I don't know. Here are you, the hero, and here's she, the
heroine. And the hero is sick and the heroine comes to take care of
him--she WAS takin' care of you afore I came, you know; and she falls in
love with him and--"

"Yes," I observed, sarcastically. "She always does--in books. But in
those books the hero is not a middle-aged quahaug. Suppose we stick to
real life and possibilities, Hephzy."

Hephzy was unconvinced. "I don't care," she said. "She ought to even if
she doesn't. _I_ fell in love with you long ago, Hosy. And she DID bring
you here after you were hurt and took care of you."

"Hush! hush!" I broke in. "She took care of me, as you call it, because
she thought it was her duty. She thinks she is under great obligation to
us because we did not pitch her into the street when we first met her.
She insists that she owes us money and gratitude. Her kindness to me and
her care are part payment of the debt. She told me so, herself."

"But--"

"There aren't any 'buts.' You mustn't be an idiot because I have been
one, Hephzy. We agreed not to speak of that again. Don't remind me of
it."

Hephzy sighed. "All right," she said. "I suppose you are right, Hosy.
But--but how is all this goin' to end? She won't go with us. Are we
goin' to leave her here alone?"

I was silent. The same question was in my mind, but I had answered it. I
was NOT going to leave her there alone. And yet--

"If I was sure," mused Hephzy, "that she was in love with Herbert
Bayliss, then 'twould be all right, I suppose. They would get married
and it would be all right--or near right--wouldn't it, Hosy."

I said nothing.

The next morning I saw her. She came to inquire for me and Hephzy
brought her into my room for a stay