to one, an' you c'n
make your t'ilet over there. I'm 'fraid if you go over to the Eagle
it'll spoil your appetite. She'd think it might, anyway."

So David departed to see the colt, and John got out some of the books
and busied himself with them until the time to present himself at
David's house.

CHAPTER XXII.

"Why, Mis' Cullom, I'm real glad to see ye. Come right in," said Mrs.
Bixbee as she drew the widow into the "wing settin' room," and proceeded
to relieve her of her wraps and her bundle. "Set right here by the fire
while I take these things of your'n into the kitchen to dry 'em out.
I'll be right back"; and she bustled out of the room. When she came back
Mrs. Cullom was sitting with her hands in her lap, and there was in her
eyes an expression of smiling peace that was good to see.

Mrs. Bixbee drew up a chair, and seating herself, said: "Wa'al, I don't
know when I've seen ye to git a chance to speak to ye, an' I was real
pleased when David said you was goin' to be here to dinner. An' my! how
well, you're lookin'--more like Cynthy Sweetland than I've seen ye fer I
don't know when; an' yet," she added, looking curiously at her guest,
"you 'pear somehow as if you'd ben cryin'."

"You're real kind, I'm sure," responded Mrs. Cullom, replying to the
other's welcome and remarks _seriatim_; "I guess, though, I don't look
much like Cynthy Sweetland, if I do feel twenty years younger 'n I did a
while ago; an' I have ben cryin', I allow, but not fer sorro', Polly
Harum," she exclaimed, giving the other her maiden name. "Your brother
Dave comes putty nigh to bein' an angel!"

"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee with a twinkle, "I reckon Dave might hev to
be fixed up some afore he come out in that pertic'ler shape, but," she
added impressively, "es fur as bein' a _man_ goes, he's 'bout 's good 's
they make 'em. I know folks thinks he's a hard bargainer, an'
close-fisted, an' some on 'em that ain't fit to lick up his tracks says
more'n that. He's got his own ways, I'll allow, but down at bottom, an'
all through, I know the' ain't no better man livin'. No, ma'am, the'
ain't, an' what he's ben to me, Cynthy Cullom, nobody knows but
me--an'--an'--mebbe the Lord--though I hev seen the time," she said
tentatively, "when it seemed to me 't I knowed more about my affairs 'n
He did," and she looked doubtfully at her companion, who had been
following her with affirmative and sympathetic nods, and now drew her
chair a little