ished heart, where
there had been little which was companionable, there was a shadowed
corner. Sophy Baragar had been such a true-hearted, brave-souled woman,
and he had been so impatient and exacting with her, till the beautiful
face, which had been reproduced in George, had lost its colour and its
fire, had become careworn and sweet with that sweetness which goes early
out of the world. In all her days the vanished wife had never hinted
at as much as Aunt Kate suggested now, and Abel Baragar shut his eyes
against the thing which he was seeing. He was not all hard, after all.

Aunt Kate turned to Black Andy now.

"Mebbe Cassy ain't for long," she said. "Mebbe she's come out for what
she came out for before. It seems to me it's that, or she wouldn't have
come; because she's young yet, and she's fond of her boy, and she'd
not want to bury herself alive out here with us. Mebbe her lungs is bad
again."

"Then she's sure to get another husband out here," said the old man,
recovering himself. "She got one before easy, on the same ticket." With
something of malice he looked over at Black Andy.

"If she can sing and dance as she done nine years ago, I shouldn't
wonder," answered Black Andy smoothly. These two men knew each other;
they had said hard things to each other for many a year, yet they lived
on together unshaken by each other's moods and bitternesses.

"I'm getting old,--I'm seventy-nine,--and I ain't for long," urged Aunt
Kate, looking Abel in the eyes. "Some day soon I'll be stepping out and
away. Then things'll go to sixes and sevens, as they did after Sophy
died. Some one ought to be here that's got a right to be here, not a
hired woman."

Suddenly the old man raged out.

"Her--off the stage, to look after this! Her, that's kicked up her heels
for a living! It's--no, she's no good. She's common. She's come, and she
can go. I ain't having sweepings from the streets living here as if they
had rights."

Aunt Kate set her lips.

"Sweepings! You've got to take that back, Abel. It's not Christian.
You've got to take that back."

"He'll take it back all right before we've done, I guess," remarked
Black Andy. "He'll take a lot back."

"Truth's truth, and I'll stand by it, and--"

The old man stopped, for there came to them now, clearly, the sound of
sleigh bells. They all stood still for an instant, silent and attentive,
then Aunt Kate moved towards the door.

"Cassy's come," she said. "Cassy and George's