iet," she added, more soberly, "you've give me a sight of
comfort. Now tell me about you-know-who. Toot told me the last time
he was at our house that he knowed you were gone on that new feller.
I'm sorry they fit, but he had no business refusin' to credit Toot.
Nobody else ever did the like, and it was calculated to rile him,
especially when he was full an' loaded for bear, as folks say. How are
you and him makin' out, Harriet?"

Harriet's face had taken on a sober look, and she hesitated before
replying; finally she said:

"There is nothing between us, Hettie, and I'd rather not talk about
him."

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry!" the other exclaimed. "He is such a good-looking
man, and so many thought you and him would come to a understanding.
They say a girl gets a mighty good whack at a man when he is laid up
flat of his back. I never have tried it, but it looks reasonable."

Then Hettie rose. "I'm goin' to stay to dinner with you all," she
said, "and I'm going out now to help yore ma. Pore woman, she looked
dead tired jest now!"

A few minutes later Mrs. Floyd came to Harriet, who was still seated in
the parlor, an expression of deep thought on her face.

"Harriet," said the old lady, wiping her damp hands on her apron,
"Hettie has gone to work washing dishes in there like a house a-fire.
I declare she's a big help; as soon as she comes about I feel rested,
for I know she won't leave a thing undone. What have you been saying
to her? I never saw her so cheerful. She's been runnin' on in the
kitchen like a fifteen-year-old child. I declare I can't keep from
liking her. You must a-told her some'n about Toot Wambush."

"I did," admitted Harriet. "Mother, I've been standing in her way. I
believe he likes her, and will marry her now that I have given him his
last answer."

"Do you really, daughter?"

"Yes, I think he will--I'm almost sure of it, and I just had to tell
her so, she looked so down-hearted."

Mrs. Floyd laid her hand on Harriet's head and smiled.

"You deserve to be happy, too, daughter, and somehow I feel like you
are going to be. Mr. Westerfelt is nobody's fool; he knows you're
sweet and good, and--"

"I don't want to talk about him, mother," Harriet said, firmly, as she
rose. "I think we ought to keep Hettie a few days; she'd like to be
near the post-office, I know."

"Well, the Lord knows I'm willing," consented Mrs. Floyd, as she
followed her daughter to the kitchen.

Chapte