woman
apart. It was bound to come, and we didn't know it--that's all."

"We give her every chance. There was Tom."

"Yes," says I; "and there was the man next door. These things goes by
guess and by Gawd. For instance," says I, "what in the world could
Bonnie Bell's ma ever see in you, Colonel?"

That hit him hard, though I didn't mean it that way. He turned his face
away, like he seen something awful before him.

"My Gawd!" says he. "I done that my own self! I stole her ma away. She
loved me and I loved her. Ain't there no one to show a pore old helpless
man what he ought to do?"

"It's life, and she showed us the way," says I. "When you stole Bonnie
Bell's ma you was ready to meet her folks, I reckon, if they come to
take her away. You taken your chance when you married her. So's the man
that's run off with Bonnie Bell. Let him have a even break, Colonel. He
loves her, maybe--and he seems to have a way with women."

"He's ruined her!" says Old Man Wright. "It's marriage he was after, of
course; but look at the difference. I never touched a cent of her ma's
money. We made our own way. But here's a low-down sneak that's come in
at our back door and run away with my girl for her money! Don't you see
the difference? What's this skunk like?" he says to me after a time.

"He ain't such a bad-looking fellow," says I, "if he was dressed up.
He's a sort of upstanding fellow. His clothes was always so dirty he
didn't look like much. He was a good-talking fellow enough."

"They all are--the damn fortune-hunting curs! I can believe that."

"I was too much a coward to tell you, Colonel," says I. "I love that
girl a awful lot. I'd do anything I could to help the kid, even now when
she's in so bad."

"Yes," says he.

"She had it in her natural," says I. "Her pa and ma run away. She was
plumb gentle till she bolted--and then all hell couldn't hold her. Ain't
that like her pa?"

"Yes," says he, humble; "it's like her pa."

"And she's handsome, and soft, and kind, and gentle--so any man couldn't
help loving her. Ain't she like her ma thataway? Wasn't she thataway
too?"

"Yes," says he, choking up like; "she's like her ma."

"Well, then?" says I. "Well then?"

So I pushed him outen the room and went on out down the walk.

I looked around at our house as I was going out. It was big and fine,
but somehow the curtains looked dull and dirty to me. Everything was
shabby-looking someways. This place was where we'd failed.