et 'im and comfort 'im. I saw him the day Pitman fetched him
here. He sat out under the trees all day long. I watched him from my
field, and I could see 'im wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He kept it up
from morning till night. Sometimes, Alfred, I doubt the goodness of God
Almighty. I know it's a sin to say so, but I can't help it. I've talked
a heap to Joe off and on, an' he's had more put on 'im than a grown
person ought to bear. Poor thing! he misses his Ma. From what he says I
judge she was good and tender. I had a queer dream the other night. I
seemed to see a woman in my room; she was crying, and, as plain as I can
hear yore voice this minute, I heard her say: 'Don't let 'em abuse
'im--he's weak and he can't stand it,' and with that she seemed to melt
away. But that is clean off the track. I've got a confession to make to
you, and I am so ashamed I hardly know what to do. Alfred Henley, I've
told you a lie--a cold, deliberate lie. Can you respect anybody that
will tell a lie?"

"Well, I wouldn't have much respect for myself then," he said, his eyes
large in wonder over what she was driving at. "I've lied as many times
as an average clock can tick in a lifetime. I've told a dozen lies to
sell a pair of shoes, and forty to sell a hoss."

"Hush joking," she said. "Listen. When I told you that fellow was dead I
was lying. I didn't intend to fool you, but I got in an awful tangle,
and you had to take your chance along with the rest. When I went to the
train that day and that fool didn't heave in sight I smelt a mouse. I
went to the post-office and got a letter from him. It was the most
wishy-washy concoction that was ever put on paper. He never, at any
time, had marry in the back of his head. He was just seeing how far he
could go with me to pass time. Some men are that way. They are powerful
interested till they get a girl to commit herself, and then they begin
to twist and turn or call it all off on the spot. As long as I kept this
'un in doubt he wrote the softest gush that ever flowed from a pen. But
when I wrote that I was ready--actually ready and waiting--well, that
was another proposition. He plumb lost his nerve."

"The scoundrel!" Henley burst out, grown red in the face. "He is below
contempt. I was afraid he was a sneak the minute I saw his picture. I'd
have stopped you if I'd known how."

"Well, it was nobody's fault but mine." Dixie was trying to divest her
brave voice of a certain quavering. "Folks say