e was wrought in the appearance of the
old log house. The roof, which had been humped in the middle like the
back of a lean, acorn-hunting hog, was straightened and reshingled; the
yard was enclosed with a neat fence; and the stack chimney which had
leaned off from the house as if it would fall, was shoved back and held
in place with strong iron bands. And the interior was transformed. Soft
carpets were spread, easy chairs provided, the rough walls were papered
and the windows were curtained. The fire-light fell upon pictures, and a
cat had come to take her place at the corner of the hearth; but in the
dead of night, when all the birds were hushed, when the wind moaned in
the plum thicket, the hollow and distressing cough echoed throughout the
house. At evening sorrowful-looking cows would come down the lane, and
standing at the gate would low mournfully, an attention which they ever
seek to pay a dismal place, but Jim Taylor entered a complaint,
threatened violence and finally compelled their owners to have them
driven home before the arrival of their time for lonesome lowing. It was
Jim's custom to call at morning and at evening. Sometimes, after
looking about the place, he would merely come to the door and ask after
Mr. Pennington and then go away.

One morning when Louise answered his tap at the door, she told him that
the sufferer was much better and that she believed he was going to get
well.

"I'm mighty glad to hear it," he replied. "The doctors can't always
tell."

"Won't you come in?"

"No, I might worry him."

"Oh, not in the least. He's asleep anyway, and I'm lonesome. Come in,
please."

He followed her into the house, trying to lessen his weight as if he
were walking on thin ice; and the old house cracked its knuckles, but
his foot-fall made not a sound. She placed a chair for him and sat down
with her hands in her lap, and how expressive they were, small and thin,
but shapely. She was pale and neat in a black gown. To him she had never
looked so frail, and her eyes had never appeared so deeply blue, but her
hands--he could not keep his eyes off them--one holding pity and the
other full of appeal.

"Don't you need a little more wood on?" he asked.

"No, it's not cold enough for much fire."

"Where did you get that cat?"

"She came crying around the other day and I let her in, and she has made
herself at home."

"The negroes say it's good luck for a cat to come to the house." She
sighed. "I d