rry is one
of our hands on the place; and Abner is in jail."

"Abner--in jail!" she exclaimed, in a dazed way. "What did he do? Abner
always seemed so straight."

[Illustration: GEORGE'S WIFE]

"Oh, he sloped with a thousand dollars of the railway people's money. They
caught him, and he got seven years."

"He was married, wasn't he?" she asked, in a low voice.

"Yes, to Phenie Tyson. There's no children, so she's all right, and
divorce is cheap over in the States, where she is now."

"Phenie Tyson didn't marry Abner because he was a saint, but because he
was a man, I suppose," she replied, gravely. "And the old folks?"

"Both dead. What Abner done sent the old man to his grave. But Abner's
mother died a year before."

"What Abner done killed his father," said Abel Baragar, with dry emphasis.
"Phenie Tyson was extravagant--wanted this and that, and nothin' was too
good for her. Abner spoilt his life gettin' her what she wanted; and it
broke old Ezra Lumley's heart."

George's wife looked at him for a moment with her eyes screwed up, and
then she laughed softly. "My, it's curious how some folks go up and some
go down! It must be lonely for Phenie waiting all these years for Abner to
get free.... I had the happiest time in my life at Lumley's. I was getting
better of my--cold. While I was there I got lots of strength stored up, to
last me many a year when I needed it; and, then, George and I were married
at Lumley's!"

Aunt Kate came slowly over with the boy and laid a hand on Cassy's
shoulder, for there was an undercurrent to the conversation which boded no
good. The very first words uttered had plunged Abel Baragar and his son's
wife into the midst of the difficulty which she had hoped might, after
all, be avoided.

"Come, and I'll show you your room, Cassy," she said. "It faces south, and
you'll get the sun all day. It's like a sun-parlor. We're going to have
supper in a couple of hours, and you must rest some first. Is the house
warm enough for you?"

The little, garish woman did not reply directly, but shook back her red
hair and caught her boy to her breast and kissed him; then she said, in
that staccato manner which had given her words on the stage such point and
emphasis: "Oh, this house is a'most too warm for me, Aunt Kate!"

Then she moved toward the door with the grave, kindly old woman, her son's
hand in her own.

"You can see the Lumleys' place from your window, Cassy," said Black Andy,
griml