d think so," she said.
"But why leprosy, pray?"

"Oh, I was goin' to make it smallpox, but I asked Doctor Parker if
there was anything worse than smallpox and he said he cal'lated
leprosy was about as bad as any disease goin'. It worked fine
while it lasted, but the Board of Health made me take it down; said
there wan't any leprosy on the premises. I told 'em no, but 'twas
a good idea to beware of it anyhow, and I'd put up the sign just on
general principles. No use; they hadn't much use for principles,
general or otherwise, seemed so."

The lady commented on the neatness and order in the little rooms.
They were in marked contrast to the workshop. "I suppose you have
a woman come here to clean and sweep," she said.

Jed shook his head.

"No-o," he answered. "I generally cal'late to come in every little
while and clean up. Mother was always a great one for keepin'
things slicked up," he added, apologetically, "and I--I kind of
like to think 'twould please her. Foolish, I presume likely, but--
well, foolish things seem to come natural to me. Got a kind of a
gift for 'em, as you might say. I . . ."

He lapsed into silence, his sentence only begun. Mrs. Armstrong,
looking up, found him gazing at her with the absent, far-off look
that his closest associates knew so well. She had not met it
before and found it rather embarrassing, especially as it kept on
and on.

"Well?" she asked, after a time. He started and awoke to
realities.

"I was just thinkin'," he explained, "that you was the only woman
that has been in this house since the summer I let it to the
Davidson folks. And Mrs. Davidson wan't a mite like you."

That was true enough. Mrs. Davidson had been a plump elderly
matron with gray hair, a rather rasping voice and a somewhat
aggressive manner. Mrs. Armstrong was young and slim, her hair and
eyes were dark, her manner refined and her voice low and gentle.
And, if Jed had been in the habit of noticing such things, he might
have noticed that she was pleasant to look at. Perhaps he was
conscious of this fact, but, if so, it was only in a vague, general
way.

His gaze wandered to Barbara, who, with Petunia, was curled up in a
big old-fashioned rocker.

"And a child, too," he mused. "I don't know when there's been a
child in here. Not since I was one, I guess likely, and that's too
long ago for anybody to remember single-handed."

But Mrs. Armstrong was interested in his previous remark.