ll wantonness. But she had no cowardly thought that the
fairest and most cunning of them could oust her from the shrine of
Zeke's heart. Her great grief lay in the failure of any word from the
traveler. The days became weeks; almost a month had gone since he held
her in his arms, and still no message came. This was, in truth,
strange enough to justify alarm. It was with difficulty that she drove
back a temptation to imagine evil happenings. She went oftener the six
miles to the Cherry Lane post-office.

When she descended the trail toward Thunder Branch this morning, she
saw Zeke's mother standing in the doorway of the cabin on the far side
of the stream. The bent figure of the old woman rested motionless,
with one hand lifted to shade her eyes from the vivid sunlight, as she
watched the girl's approach.

"Mornin', Tiny," she said tenderly, as the girl crossed the clearing.
"On yer way to the Lane, I reckon?"

"Mornin', Mis' Higgins," came the cheery answer. "Yes, I 'lowed as how
ye'd love to hear, an' I c'd git away. The corn's laid by; the sorghum
cane's done hoed. Alviry's gone to he'p Gran'pap with a bee-tree.
Hit's a big yaller poplar, up 'twixt Ted Hutchins' claim an' the ole
mine-hole. Gran'pap 'lows as how hit 'll have to be cut an' split, an'
wuth hit--over a hundred pounds, all sour-wood honey, 'cept 'bout ten
pounds early poplar. Gran'pap's right-smart tickled. I told Alviry to
watch out he don't go an' tote half of it up to thet-thar Widder
Brown. You-all must come over an' git what ye kin use o' the honey,
Mis' Higgins, afore the widder gits her fingers in the jar."

"Ye don't opine thet-thar gran'pap o' your'n aims to git hitched ag'in
at his age, do ye, Tiny? Hit'd be plumb scand'lous--an' him eighty
past. At thet age, he's bound to have one foot in the grave, fer all
he's so tarnation spry an' peart in his carryin's on."

"Lord knows what he'll do," the girl replied, carelessly. "He's allers
been given credit fer havin' fotchin' ways with women. I hope he
won't, though. They say, folks what marry upwards o' eighty is mighty
short-lived."

The topic led Zeke's mother to broach apprehension of her own:

"Tiny, ye don't have no idee thet our Zeke's gone daffy on some o'
them Evish-lookin' critters down below, like ye showed me their
picters in the city paper oncet?"

"Naw, no danger o' thet," was the stout assurance. "Zeke's got too
much sense. Besides, he hain't had no time to git rich yit. The pa