with a half-uttered oath of surprise:

"Look thar!"

A woman was coming up the road. She wore a black cotton dress and a
black sunbonnet--mourning relics for the dead husband which the living
one had never had the means to supplant--and rough shoes. She pushed
back the bonnet with one nervous, bony hand, saw the two figures on
the edge of the creek, and without any gesture or call came toward
them. And only the woman's quickness in St. Hilda saw the tense
anxiety of the mother's face relax. The boy saw nothing; he was
only amazed.

"Why, mammy, whut the--whut are you doin' up hyeh?"

The mother did not answer, and St. Hilda saw that she did not want
to answer. St. Hilda rose with a warm smile of welcome.

"So this is Chris's mother?"

The woman shook hands limply.

"Hit's whut I passes fer," she said, and she meant neither smartness
nor humor. The boy was looking wonderingly, almost suspiciously at her,
and she saw she must give him some explanation.

"I been wantin' to see the school hyeh an' Miss Hildy. I had to come up
to see Aunt Sue Morrow, who's might' nigh gone, so I jes kep' a-walkin'
on up hyeh."

"Miss Hildy hyeh," said the boy, "was jes about to send fer ye."

"To sen' fer _me_?"

"I been drunk agin."

The mother showed no surprise or displeasure.

"Hit's the fourth time since sorghum time," the boy went on relentlessly.
"I axed Miss Hildy hyeh to whoop me, but she says she don't nuver whoop
nobody, so she was jes a-goin' to send fer you to come an' whoop me when
you come a-walkin' up the road."

This was all, and the lad pulled out an old Barlow knife and went to a
hickory sapling. The two women watched him silently as he cut off a stout
switch and calmly began to trim it. At last the woman turned to the teacher
and her voice trembled.

"I don't see Chris thar more'n once or twice a year, an' seems kind o'
hard that I got to whoop him."

The boy turned sharply, and helplessly she took the switch.

"And hit hain't his fault nohow. His stepdaddy got him drunk. He tol' me
so when he come home. I went by the still to find Chris an' cuss out ole
Jeb Mullins an' the men thar. An' I come on hyeh."

"Set down a minute, mammy," said Chris, dropping on the log on one side
of St. Hilda, and obediently the mother sat down on the other side.

[Illustration]

"Mammy," he said abruptly, "I'll stop drinkin' if you will."

St. Hilda almost gasped. The woman lifted her eyes to the mountainside
and