don't you go to headquarters and call a halt?" Henley's indignation
was rising.

"You mean to Carrie? Well, I did, but somehow she manages to git around
the question. She jest looks kind o' 'shamed and keeps wanting to talk
about other things. I ought to be sorry for her, desperate as she is for
attention, but I hain't. She's a tattle-tale and scandalmonger. She
never got over losin' that young preacher that Dixie Hart cut her out
of, and she spends all her time hammerin' at that pore girl, who is good
and decent and noble, if thar ever was sech a thing. Just here lately,
because you seed fit to take Dixie with you over to Carlton--"

"Oh, I know--I know." Henley's face grew darker, and he clinched his
hand. "I can't think of her bell-clapper tongue without gettin' mad, and
I don't like to be that way with a woman. What does Johnny say?"

"Oh, he talks as big as a railroad president; he talks jest the same
foolishness as his brothers did; _he's_ doin' the marryin'--nobody else
has a'thing to do with it. That's what hurts. If I could jest git the
pore, simple boy out of her clutches for a month I believe I could open
his eyes, but I am afraid at the slightest move they will run off and
git married. Sometimes I try to be resigned and argue to myself that
maybe him and her could git along together, but when I see my pore
baby-boy with that powdered and painted thing out in public I mighty
nigh die with mortification."

"We must simply bust it up, Mrs. Cartwright," Henley said, firmly.
"That's all there is about it. We must checkmate 'em. Let me study over
it. I'll help if I can."

"I wish you would," the woman said, anxiously. "There he is now in the
front-door. I'll slip out the side way; he mought suspicion I was
talkin' about him."

A moment after her departure Johnny Cartwright came back to the desk.
"Jim said Ma was here," he said, glancing around the room.

"She was, Johnny, boy," Henley said, patronizingly, "but she went home.
Ah, ha! I saw you with Carrie Wade the other day--at least it had her
look."

"Yes, it was her." A flush of pride rose and spread itself over the
boyish face. "I was taking her home from Mrs. Spriggs's quilting."

"I'd bet a hat I know what you wanted to see her about," Henley said,
his hand over his facile mouth. "Some of these old bachelors, or
widowers with a gang of children to take care of, sent you with some
invite or other. When I was a little chap like you I used to pick up