he could not
stay in Sally's room, and refreshed himself with the luncheon he brought
with him each day.

During the first week, when the girl's life hung in the balance, he was
granted privileges which he afterward refused to relinquish. The
hospital confines, after the freedom of the hills, chafed him sorely. As
the days grew warmer he discarded his coat, collar, and at times his
shoes.

"I 'low I'm goin' to tek Sal home next week!" became his daily threat.

But the days and weeks slipped by, and still the girl lay with a low,
consuming fever, and still Pop watched by her side, showing her no
affection by word or gesture but serving her and anticipating her every
want with a thoroughness that left little for the nurses to do.

In some way Miss Fletcher had gained his confidence. To her he intrusted
the bills which he ripped from his coat at the end of each week with the
instruction that she "pay off them boys down in the office fa'r an'
squar', but not to 'low 'em to cheat her." It may have been her growing
interest in the invalid that won his favor, for she came in often to
chat awhile with Sally and sometimes brought up a handful of flowers to
brighten the sick room.

"She's getting better," she said one morning as she held the girl's big
bony hand and looked down at the thin bright face in its frame of
shining hair. "We'll have her sitting up now before long."

Pop's whole aspect brightened.

"Ef Sal onct begins to git well, can't none of 'em beat her," he said
proudly.

"Have you any other children?" Miss Fletcher asked.

"Lord, yes," said Pop, "heaps of 'em. Thar's Ted an' Larkin, an'
Gus,--they wuz all kilt in feud fights. An' Burt an' Jim,--they're in
jail in Jackson fer moonshinin'. Four more died when they wuz babies.
An' they ain't nary a one at home now but jes' Sal."

"How old is she?"

"Seventeen or eighteen, mebbe."

"And she tells me she has never been to school."

"Thar warn't no needcessity," said Pop complacently, taking a long twist
of tobacco from his pocket. "Sal don't need no larnin'. She's pearter
then most gals thet's got book sense. You show me ary one of these gals
round here thet kin spin an' weave the cloth to mek ther own dresses,
thet kin mold candles, an' mek soap, an' hoe terbaccy, an' handle a
rifle good ez a man."

"But, Mr. Hawkins," insisted Miss Fletcher, "there are better things
than those for us to learn. Haven't you ever felt the need of an
education yourself