r eyes flashed in the firelight. The sad expression
he had surprised on her face was gone.

"She's in 'er grave," she snarled. "Give 'er back an' I'll git down on
my knees to you, as much as I hate you!"

"You know I'm helpless to undo what's been done," he said, regretfully.

"Well, take yorese'f out'n my sight then. You've made a' ol' woman
perfectly miserable; go on an' marry, an' be happy, ef you kin."

"I never expect to be that. I've repented of my conduct a thousand
times. I have suffered as much as God ought to make a man suffer for a
wrong deed."

"Not as much as me, an' I hain't guilty o' no crime nuther."

"I've humbly begged your forgiveness. I can do no more." He rose
slowly, despondently.

"Git out'n my sight, you vagabond!" Mrs. Dawson's voice rose till the
last word ended in a shriek.

Footsteps were heard in the kitchen, the door opened, and Mrs. Bradley
strode in, her face aflame. Westerfelt stepped towards her and put his
hands on her shoulders.

"Don't say anything," he said; "for God's sake, pity her."

"I cayn't stand it," she blurted out, half crying; "she's gwine
entirely too fur!" She pushed his hands down and stood glaring at Mrs.
Dawson.

"Look a heer, Sue Dawson," she said, getting her breath fast, "yo're a
older woman an' me, an' I've got due respect fer age an' a gray head,
but John Westerfelt is my friend, an' is a-visitin' of me 'n' Luke at
present. You are welcome in my house ef you'll behave yorese'f decent,
but you cayn't come under my roof to goad him to desperation. Now I've
said my say. Thar's the door ef you dare open yore mouth agin. Thar
ain't a speck o' Christian sperit in you. I'm ashamed to call you
neighbor."

With an expression of mingled anger and fear in her face, Mrs. Dawson
looked at her hostess, and without a word rose stiffly and went to the
bed, on which lay her shawl, carpet-bag, and bonnet. Her face was to
the wall as she drew her bonnet on and began to tie the strings.

"I'll go out the back way," whispered Westerfelt to Mrs. Bradley; "for
God's sake, don't let her go!"

"All right," promised Mrs. Bradley; "go on. I'll make 'er stay, I
reckon, but she's as stubborn as a mule."

He went through the kitchen, round the house, and out at the gate. He
stopped, leaned against the fence, and watched the two women through
the window. Mrs. Dawson had put on her shawl. She held her bag in
front of her, and stood in the centre of the room