llow you nor nobody else to say my child is a
progeny. You can take that back or I will slap you peaked." Sedalia
took it back in a hurry, so I guess little Lula Hall is not a progeny.

Every one left about four except Gale, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, Mrs.
Louderer, and the Edmonsons. They had farthest to go, so they stayed
over night again. We worked until ten o'clock that night over Grandma's
clothes, but everything was thoroughly finished. Every button was on,
every thread-end knotted and clipped, and some tired workers lay down
to rest, as did a very happy child and a very thankful old lady.

Every one got away by ten o'clock the next morning. The last I saw of
little Cora Belle was when they had reached the top of a long slope and
Balaam had "stopped to rest." The breeze from the south was playfully
fluttering the rags on the wheels. Presently I heard a long "hee-haw,
hee-haw," and I knew Balaam had rested and had started.

I have been a very busy woman since I began this letter to you several
days ago. A dear little child has joined the angels. I dressed him and
helped to make his casket. There is no minister in this whole country
and I could not bear the little broken lily-bud to be just carted away
and buried, so I arranged the funeral and conducted the services. I
know I am unworthy and in no way fitted for such a mission, but I did
my poor best, and if no one else is comforted, I am. I know the message
of God's love and care has been told once, anyway, to people who have
learned to believe more strongly in hell than in heaven.

Dear friend, I do hope that this New Year will bring you and yours
fuller joys than you have ever known. If I had all the good gifts in my
hands you should certainly be blessed.

Your sincere friend,
ELINORE RUPERT STEWART.

XI

ZEBBIE'S STORY

_September 1, 1910._

DEAR MRS. CONEY,--

It was just a few days after the birthday party and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy
was with me again. We were down at the barn looking at some new pigs,
when we heard the big corral gates swing shut, so we hastened out to
see who it could be so late in the day.

It was Zebbie. He had come on the stage to Burnt Fork and the driver
had brought him on here.... There was so much to tell, and he whispered
he had something to tell me privately, but that he was too tired then;
so after supper I hustled him off to bed....

Next morning ... the men went off to their work and Zebbie and I were
left