would have done it."

"Oh, you can't call names. That's Madame Beattie," said Jeff absently.
"She's neither principles nor morals nor the kind of shame other women
feel. You can't judge Madame Beattie."

"So I say," returned Lydia, inwardly delighted and resolving to lose no
time in telling Anne. "I like her. She's nice. She's clever. She knows
how to manage people. O Jeff, I wish you'd talk with her."

"About this?" He was still speaking absently. "It wouldn't do any good.
If it amuses her or satisfies her devilish feeling toward Esther to go
on talking and that slob will get it into print--and he will--you can't
stop her."

"What do you mean by her feeling toward Esther?" Lydia's heart beat so
that she drew a long breath to get it into swing again.

"We can't go into that," said Jeff. "It runs back a long way. Only
everything she can do to worry Esther or frighten her--why, she'd do it,
that's all. That's Madame Beattie."

Lydia knew this was the path that led to the necklace. Why couldn't she
tell him she knew the story and enlist him on Madame Beattie's side and
hers, the side that was fighting for him and nothing else? But she did
not dare. All she could do was to say, her hands cold against each other
and her voice choked:

"O Jeff, I wish you'd give this up."

"What?"

He was recalled now from memories the printed paper had wakened in him,
and looking at her kindly. At least Lydia was sure he was, because his
voice sounded so dear. She could not know his eyes were full of an
adoring gentleness over her who seemed to him half child, half maiden,
and tumultuously compassionate. She made a little timid gesture of the
hand over the small area about them.

"This," she said. "You mustn't stay here and hoe corn. You must get into
business and show people--"

Her voice choked. It refused absurdly to go on.

"Why, Lydia," said he, "I thought you knew. This is the only way for a
man to keep alive. When I've got a hoe in my hand--" He could not quite
explain it. He had always had a flow of words on paper, but since he had
believed his life was finished his tongue had been more and more
lethargic. It would not obey his brain because, after all, what could
the brain report of his distrustful heart? Lydia had a moment of bitter
mortification because she had not seemed to understand. Anne understood,
she knew, and had tried, with infinite patience, to help on this queer
experiment, both for Jeff's sake and Farvie