t 'em on yit, be ye?" the storekeeper
inquired, solicitously.

"Not till I git to North Wilkesboro'," Zeke answered, to the obvious
relief of the assembly, as he opened the bag. While he was busy
stowing the shoes, the onlookers commented cynically on the follies of
fashion.

"An' I've hearn tell," one concluded, "that durn-nigh everybody done
war shoes in the city, all year roun'."

Perhaps the young man felt a pleasant glow of superiority in
reflecting on the fact that such following of city fashion would soon
distinguish him. But his innocent vanity was not to be unduly
flattered.

"Ca'late to stay away till ye've made yer fortin, in course, sonny?"
one of the older men suggested. He enjoyed some local reputation as a
wag, the maintenance of which so absorbed his energies that his wife,
who had lost whatever sense of humor she might once have had, toiled
both indoors and out.

"Why, yes, o' course," Zeke replied unsuspectingly.

"Better kiss we-uns good-by, sonny," was the retort. "You-all 'll be
gone quite some time."

The sally was welcomed with titters and guffaws. Zeke was red to the
ears with mortification and anger, as he shut the valise, shouldered
it, and strode to the door. But even in the time of that passing, he
mastered his mood in a measure. He had no wish to make his farewell to
these neighbors in bitterness of spirit. So, at the door, he turned
and grinned amiably on the group.

"I want pleasant things to remember hyarabouts, all thet-thar long
time I got to be away," he said, with a quizzical drawl; "so I kain't
be a-kissin' o' ye none. My stomick hain't none so strong nohow," he
added, with the coarseness that usually flavored the humor of the
countryside.

Then, abruptly, the smile left his lips; the lines of his face
hardened; the hazel eyes brightened and widened a little. His low,
slow voice came firmly, with a note of tense earnestness. It was as if
he spoke to himself, rather than to the slouching men, who regarded
him curiously.

"I hain't leavin' all this-hyar 'cause I don't love hit," he declared.
"I do love hit, an' I aim to come back by-an-bye--I shore do!"

Forthwith, embarrassed anew by this unmeditated outburst, he hurried
off, amid an astonished silence which was broken at last by the
storekeeper.

"Thet-thar Zeke Higgins," he ventured, somewhat indistinctly through
his matting of whiskers, "I swow if he hain't got right feelin's, fer
all he's so durn peart." And his