life. And they generally come on account of somebody
else, too. There's times when I wish I didn't have any flesh and blood."

"Hey? Good land! No flesh and blood! What do you want--bones?"

"Oh, I don't mean that. I wish I didn't have any--any relations of my
own flesh and blood."

"Humph! I don't know's you'd be any better off. I ain't got nobody and
I ain't what you might call cheerful. I know what's the matter with you,
though. That Kenelm's been frettin' you again, I suppose."

He had guessed it. Kenelm that morning had suddenly announced that he
was to have a day off. He was cal'latin' to borrow Mrs. Barnes' horse
and buggy and go for a ride. His sister promptly declared that would be
lovely; she was just wishing for a ride. Whereupon Kenelm had hemmed and
hawed and, at last, admitted that his company for the drive was already
provided.

"Oh!" sneered Hannah. "I see. You're goin' to take that precious inmate
of yours along. And I've got to set here alone at home. Well, I should
think you'd be ASHAMED."

"What for? Ain't nothin' in takin' a lady you're keepin' company with
out drivin', is there? I don't see no shame in that."

"No, I presume likely YOU don't. You're way past shame, both of you. And
when I think of all I've done for you. Slaved and cooked your meals--"

"Well, you're cookin' 'em yet, ain't you? I ain't asked you to stop."

"I will stop, though. I will."

"All right, then; heave ahead and stop. I cal'late my wife'll be willin'
to cook for me, if it's needful."

"Your wife! She ain't your wife yet. And she shan't be. This ridiculous
engaged business of yours is--is--"

"Well, if you don't like the engagin', why don't you stop it?"

"Why don't YOU stop it, you mean. You would if you had the feelin's of a
man."

"Humph! And let some everlastin' lawyer sue me out of my last cent for
damages. All right, I'll stop it if you say so. There's plenty of room
in the poorhouse, they tell me. How'd you like to give us this place and
move to the poorhouse, Hannah?"

"But--but, O Kenelm, I can't think of your gettin' married! I can't
think of it!"

"Don't think of it. I ain't thinkin' of it no more'n I can help. Why
ain't you satisfied with things as they be? Everything's goin' on all
right enough now, ain't it? You and me are livin' together same as we
have for ever so long. You're here and I--well, I--"

He did not finish the sentence, but his sister read his thought. She
knew perfectly well