e turned, leaning forward a little, to gaze out across the
valley at the great square silhouette of Judge Maynard's house on the
opposite ridge, while Old Jerry wheeled the protesting buggy and
started deliberately down the hill. Just once more the latter paused;
he drew the fat gray mare to a standstill and leaned a last time far
out from the seat.

"A-course I didn't mean nothin' when I spoke about complainin' against
the Judge," he called back. "You know that, don't you, Denny? You know
I was just jokin', don't you?" A vaguely worried, appealing strain
crept into the cracked accents. "An' a-course you wouldn't say nothin'
about my speakin' like that. I think a whole heap too much of the
Judge to even try to git him into trouble--and--and then the Judge--he
might--you understand that I was only jokin', don't you, Denny?"

Young Denny nodded his head silently in reply. Long after the shrill
falsetto grumbling had ceased to drift back up the hill to him he
stood there motionless. After a while the fingers that still clutched
the bundle of circulars opened loosely and when he did finally wheel
to cross slowly to the kitchen door the papers and catalogues lay
unheeded, scattered on the ground where they had fallen.

He stopped once at the threshold to prop his pike-pole against the
house corner before he passed aimlessly inside, leaving the door wide
open behind him. And he stood a long time in the middle of the dark
room, staring dully at the cold, fireless stove. Never before had he
given it more than a passing thought--he had accepted it silently as
he accepted all other conditions over which he had no control--but
now as he stood and stared, it came over him, bit by bit, that he was
tired--so utterly weary that the task of cooking his own supper that
night had suddenly become a task greater than he could even attempt.
The very thought of the half-cooked food sickened him--nauseated him.
Motionless there in the dark he dragged one big hand across his dry
lips and slowly shook his head.

"They didn't want me," he muttered hoarsely. "It wasn't because they
forgot me before; they didn't want me--not even for the strength of my
shoulders."

With heavy, shuffling steps he crossed and dropped loosely into a
chair beside the bare board table that stood in front of one dingy
window. A long time he sat silent, his lean chin propped in his rough
palms, eyes burning straight ahead of him into vacancy. Then, little
by little