d apple from the dish of
fruit standing in the center of the table. Maje received it with a
very unmilitary bob of acknowledgment.

"He yonda home 'cross de riva, suh. He ben too late fu' kotch de
flat's mornin' An' he holla an' holla. He know dey warn't gwine cross
dat flat 'gin jis' fu' Sampson."

Hosmer had commenced to open his letters. Fanny with her elbows on the
table, asked the boy--with a certain uneasiness in her voice--"Ain't
he coming at all to-day? Don't he know all the work he's got to do?
His mother ought to make him."

"Don't reckon. Dat away Sampson: he git mad he stay mad," with which
assurance Maje vanished through the rear door, towards the region of
the kitchen, to seek more substantial condiments than the apple which
he still clutched firmly.

One of the letters was for Fanny, which her husband handed her. When
he had finished reading his own, he seemed disposed to linger, for he
took from the fruit dish the mate to the red apple he had given Maje,
and commenced to peel it with his clasp knife.

"What has our friend Belle Worthington to say for herself?" he
inquired good humoredly. "How does she get on with those Creoles down
there?"

"You know as well as I do, Belle Worthington ain't going to mix with
Creoles. She can't talk French if she wanted to. She says Muddy-Graw
don't begin to compare with the Veiled Prophets. It's just what I
thought--with their 'Muddy-Graw,' " Fanny added, contemptuously.

"Coming from such high authority, we'll consider that verdict a final
clincher," Hosmer laughed a little provokingly.

Fanny was looking again through the several sheets of Belle
Worthington's letter. "She says if I'll agree to go back with her,
she'll pass this way again."

"Well, why don't you? A little change wouldn't hurt."

" 'Tain't because I want to stay here, Lord knows. A God-forsaken
place like this. I guess you'd be glad enough," she added, with voice
shaking a little at her own boldness.

He closed his knife, placed it in his pocket, and looked at his wife,
completely puzzled.

The power of speech had come to her, for she went on, in an unnatural
tone, however, and fumbling nervously with the dishes before her. "I'm
fool enough about some things, but I ain't quite such a fool as that."

"What are you talking about, Fanny?"

"That woman wouldn't ask anything better than for me to go to St.
Louis."

Hosmer was utterly amazed. He leaned his arms on the table, clasping
his h