s head in the housekeeper's direction. "I felt 'twas fairly
safe and settled, so I told her. I told her. Yes, yes, yes. Um-hm, so I
did."

Albert turned to the lady.

"You should be very proud of him, Rachel," he said seriously. "I think
I realize a little something of the fight he has made, and it is bully.
You should be proud of him."

Rachel looked down at the little man.

"I am," she said quietly. "I guess likely he knows it."

Laban smiled. "The folks in Washington are doin' their best to help me
out," he said. "They're goin' to take the stuff away from everybody so's
to make sure _I_ don't get any more. They'll probably put up a monument
to me for startin' the thing; don't you think they will, Al? Eh? Don't
you, now?"

Albert and he walked up the road together. Laban told a little more of
his battle with John Barleycorn.

"I had half a dozen spells when I had to set my teeth, those I've got
left, and hang on," he said. "And the hangin'-on wa'n't as easy as
stickin' to fly-paper, neither. Honest, though, I think the hardest was
when the news came that you was alive, Al. I--I just wanted to start in
and celebrate. Wanted to whoop her up, I did." He paused a moment and
then added, "I tried whoopin' on sass'parilla and vanilla sody, but
'twa'n't satisfactory. Couldn't seem to raise a real loud whisper, let
alone a whoop. No, I couldn't--no, no."

Albert laughed and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You're all right,
Labe," he declared. "I know you, and I say so."

Laban slowly shook his head. His smile, as he answered, was rather
pathetic.

"I'm a long, long ways from bein' all right, Al," he said. "A long ways
from that, I am. If I'd made my fight thirty year ago, I might have been
nigher to amountin' to somethin'. . . . Oh, well, for Rachel's sake
I'm glad I've made it now. She's stuck to me when everybody would have
praised her for chuckin' me to Tophet. I was readin' one of Thackeray's
books t'other night--Henry Esmond, 'twas; you've read it, Al, of course;
I was readin' it t'other night for the ninety-ninth time or thereabouts,
and I run across the place where it says it's strange what a man can
do and a woman still keep thinkin' he's an angel. That's true, too, Al.
Not," with the return of the slight smile, "that Rachel ever went so far
as to call me an angel. No, no. There's limits where you can't stretch
her common-sense any farther. Callin' me an angel would be just past the
limit. Yes, yes, yes. I g