to be alone." He hesitated. "If you
want me to I'll find out to-night where they've gone."

"Oh, no, do nothing of the sort, for I assure you that it makes no
difference. Let them go to the devil."

"John, don't say that, please," his wife pleaded.

"But I have said it. Well, if you are determined to go, good-night."

"Good-night." Jim strode off into the darkness, but halted and turned
about. "Major, if I can forgive her you ought to," he said. "You've got
common sense to help you, but common sense was never known to help a man
that's in my fix."

They heard the gate open, heard the latch click behind him as he passed
out into the road. Toward his lonely home he trod his heavy way, in the
sand, in the rank weeds, picking not his course, stumbling, falling once
to his knees. The air was full of the pungent scent of the walnut,
turning yellow, and in it was a memory of Louise. Often had he seen her
with her apron full of nuts that had fallen from the trees under which
he now was passing. He halted and looked about him. The moon was rising
and he saw some one sitting on a fence close by the road side. "Is that
you, Jim?" a voice called.

"Yes. Oh, it's you, is it, Mr. Batts?"

"Yep, just about. Hopped up here to smell the walnuts. Takes me away
back. They took it pretty hard, didn't they?"

"Yes, particularly the Major. His wife has more control over herself."

"Or may be less affection," Gid replied. "They say she's strong, but I
call her cold. Hold on and I'll walk with you." He got down off the
fence and walked beside the giant. "She's a mighty strange woman to me,"
the old man said when they had walked for a time in silence. "But
there's no question of the fact that she's strong, that is, as some
people understand strength. To me, I gad, there is more force in
affection than in restraint. She loves her children--no doubt about
that--and of course she thinks the world of the Major, but somehow she
misjudges people. She doesn't understand me at all. But I reckon the
majority of men are too deep for a woman. I didn't want to see them in
the throes of their trouble, and I says to the Englishman, 'it's time to
git,' and we got. He wanted me to go over to his house and get some
Scotch whisky. I told him that the last rain must have left some water
in a hollow stump near my house, and that I preferred it to his
out-landish drink. And hanged if he didn't think I was in earnest. Yes,
sir, I knew that girl would marr