ips and the
great fishes, and was interrupted with the query:--

"Reckon you done seed that thar fish what swallered the man in th' Bible
an' then th'ow'd him up agin?"

"Why no, son, you know that thar fish war dade long 'fore we-uns war
born. You mustn't ax fool questions, honey."

Old Sally sat crouched by the hearth intently listening and asking as
naive questions as the child, whose pallid face grew pink and animated,
and whose eyes grew larger as he strove to see with inward vision the
things Thryng described. It was a happy evening for little Hoyle.
Leaning confidingly against David, he sighed with repletion of joy. He
was not eager for his sister to return--not he. He could lean forever
against this wonderful man and listen to his tales. But the doctor's
weariness was growing heavier, and he bethought himself that the girl
had not eaten with them, and feared she was taking trouble to prepare
quarters for him, when if she only knew how gladly he would bunk down
anywhere,--only to sleep while this blessed and delicious drowsiness was
overpowering him.

"Where is your sister, Hoyle? Don't you reckon it's time you and I were
abed?" he asked, adopting the child's vernacular.

"She's makin' yer bed ready in th' loom shed, likely," said the mother,
ever alert. With her pale, prematurely wrinkled face and uncannily
bright and watchful eyes, she seemed the controlling, all-pervading
spirit of the place. "Run, child, an' see what's keepin' her so long."

"Hit's dark out thar," said the boy, stirring himself slowly.

"Run, honey, you hain't afeared, kin drive a team all by you'se'f. Dark
hain't nothin'; I ben all ovah these heah mountains when thar wa'n't one
star o' light. Maybe you kin he'p her."

At that moment she entered, holding the candle high to light her way
through what seemed to be a dark passage, her still, sweet face a bit
flushed and stray taches of white cotton down clinging to her blue
homespun dress. "The doctah's mos' dade fer sleep, Cass."

"I am right sorry to keep you so long, but we are obleeged--"

She lifted troubled eyes to his face, as Thryng interrupted her.

"Ah, no, no! I really beg your pardon--for coming in on you this way--it
was not right, you know. It was a--a--predicament, wasn't it? It
certainly wasn't right to put you about so; if--you will just let me go
anywhere, only to sleep, I shall be greatly obliged. I'm making you a
lot of trouble, and I'm so sorry."

His profusion