lts--and
she was always liber'l, so she was. When we fust come here he was
gittin' down with his last sickness, and we left a good place in
Bartholomew county, fer _his_ folks they kep' a-writin', 'Here's the
place, Billy: this is wher' you'll find the flitter tree and the honey
pond.' And it wasn't never my will, but come we must; and you orto seen
Fairfield then. Why, ther' wasn't nothin' but mud, so ther' wasn't.--My
soul! if thern don't go Bill, and I know he ain't carried me no
wash-water."

The artist helped her down the steps and asked her to come again, which
courtesy she distrusted. She 'lowed he was p'tendin'. He throwed his
head up like he was big-feelin'. It ruffled her that anybody should be
big-feelin' over a pore widder-woman that took in days' washin's, and
had a pack o' triflin' boys that et her out o' house and home.

Still, this old woman enjoyed the fruit trees' budding promise as she
patted along the railroad, and perhaps some old thrill shot again as a
meadow-lark uttered his short, rich madrigal from the weather-darkened
fence.

"Ho, Mis' Stillman," called Mallston's wife, standing in her door with
the youngest on her arm, "le's go over and see that ther' picter car."

"I done done it," responded the old woman.

By the end of two weeks this photographic car had done good execution on
the community. The artist himself appeared friendly, which greatly
assisted his trade, openness to familiarity being a prime virtue in all
rustic neighborhoods. Every youngster who came to the store after
groceries, with a bag slung over the horse's neck in which to carry
them, gave pap no peace until means were furnished for a rosy-cheeked
tin-type of himself in a pink, green or purple case. The Appledore
girls, handsome daughters of a rich farmer, and therefore able to sit
for pictures in Kokomo, or even Indianapolis, yet put on all their
chains, rings and bracelets and went to the car to test this young
photographer's skill. Mrs. Stillman received money from her daughter in
Ellwood, together with the written command: "You go and git your
fortygraph took fer me, mother: we don't none of us never know what's
a-garn to happen." So she removed her black alpaca from its peg on the
wall for her adornment, and came also, explaining to the neighbors that
Kit sent the money, so she did, and was makin' a pore mouth about not
havin' no picter of mother. And having got the picture, she used all her
past trials and presen