nce as host.

Thryng walked over to the bedside. "In the morning, when we are all
rested, I'll see what can be done for you," he said, taking the
proffered old hand in his. "I am not Dr. Hoyle, but he has taught me a
little. I studied and practised with him, you know."

"Hev ye? Then ye must know a heap. Hit's right like th' Lord sont ye.
You see suthin' 'peared like to give way whilst I war a-cuttin' light
'ud th' othah day, an' I went all er a heap 'crost a log, an' I reckon
hit hurt me some. I hain't ben able to move a foot sence, an' I lay out
thar nigh on to a hull day, whilst Hoyle here run clar down to Sally's
place to git her. He couldn't lif' me hisse'f, he's that weak; he tried
to haul me in, but when I hollered,--sufferin' so I war jes' 'bleeged to
holler,--he kivered me up whar I lay and lit out fer Sally, an' she an'
her man they got me up here, an' here I ben ever since. I reckon I never
will leave this bed ontwell I'm cyarried out in a box."

"Oh, no, not that! You're too much alive for that. We'll see about it
to-morrow. Good night."

"Hoyle may show you the way," said the girl, rising. "Your bed is in the
loom shed. I'm right sorry it's so cold. I put blankets there, and you
can use all you like of them. I would have given you Frale's place up
garret--only--he might come in any time, and--"

"Naw, he won't. He's too skeered 'at--" Hoyle's interruption stopped
abruptly, checked by a glance of his sister's eye.

"I hope you'll sleep well--"

"Sleep? I shall sleep like a log. I feel as if I could sleep for a week.
It's awfully good of you. I hope we haven't eaten all the supper, Hoyle
and I. Come, little chap. Good night." He took up his valise and
followed the boy, leaving her standing by the uncleared table, gazing
after him.

"Now you eat, Cassandry. You are nigh about perished you are that
tired," said her mother.

Then old Sally brought more pork and hot pone from the ashes, and they
sat down together, eating and sipping their black coffee in silence.
Presently Hoyle returned and began removing his clumsy shoes, by the
fire.

"Did he ax ye a heap o' questions, Hoyle?" queried the old woman
sharply.

"Naw. Did'n' ax noth'n'."

"Waal, look out 'at you don't let on nothin' ef he does. Talkin' may
hurt, an' hit may not."

"He hain't no government man, maw."

"Hit's all right, I reckon, but them 'at larns young to hold ther
tongues saves a heap o' trouble fer therselves."

After they h