y chillen
come, an' I took keer o' her with hern. Ferd'nan' too, he war like my
own, fer I nursed him when she had the fever an' her milk lef' her. Cass
war only three weeks old then, an' he war nigh on a year, but that
little an' sickly--he like to 'a' died if I hadn't took him." She paused
and wiped away a tear that trickled down the furrow of her thin cheek.
"If hit war lef' to us women fer to stir 'em up, I reckon thar wouldn't
be no feuds, fer hit's hard on we-uns when we're friendly, an' Ferd like
my own boy that-a-way."

"But perhaps--" David spoke musingly--"perhaps it was a woman who
stirred up the trouble between them."

The widow looked a moment with startled glance into his face, then
turned her gaze away. "I reckon not. The' is no woman far or near as I
evah heern o' Frale goin' with."

Still pondering, David rose to go, but quickly resumed his seat, and
turned her thoughts again to the past. He would not leave her thus sad
at heart.

"Won't you finish telling me about the spelling-book?"

"I forget how come hit, but maw didn't leave we chillen to Teasleys'
that day she went to do the washin'. Likely Miz Teasley war sick--anyway
she lef' us here. She baked corn-bread--hit war all we had in the house
to eat them days, an' she fotched water fer the day, an' kivered up the
fire. Then she locked the door an' took the key with her, an' tol'
we-uns did we hear a noise like anybody tryin' to get in, to go up
garret an' make out like thar wa'n't nobody to home. The' war three o'
us chillen. I war the oldest. We war Caswells, my fam'ly. My little
brothah Whitson, he war sca'cely more'n a baby, runnin' 'round pullin'
things down on his hade whar he could reach, an Cotton war mos' as much
keer--that reckless."

She paused and smiled as she recalled the cares of her childhood, then
wandered on in her slow narration. "They done a heap o' things that day
to about drive me plumb crazy, an' all the time we was thinkin' we
heered men talkin' or horses trompin' outside, an' kep' ourselves right
busy runnin' up garret to hide.

"Along towa'ds night hit come on to snow, an' then turned to rain, a
right cold hard rain, an' we war that cold an' hungry--an' Whit, he
cried fer maw,--an' hit come dark an' we had et all the' war to eat long
before, so we had no suppah, an' the poor leetle fellers war that cold
an' shiverin' thar in the dark--I made 'em climb into bed like they war,
an' kivered 'em up good, an' thar I lay tr