r, but it
do." And Mother went placidly on with her sewing as she watched the
girl and the tot go hand-in-hand down the path to the spring-house
under the hill. She had just placed in her sleeve and was regarding it
with entire satisfaction, when the front gate clicked and she looked up
with interest.

"Well, good morning, Mis' Mayberry," came in Bettie Pratt's hearty
voice as she swung up the walk at a brisk pace. On one arm she held a
bobbing baby in a white sunbonnet, a toddler clung to her skirts and a
small boy trailed behind her with a puppy in his arms. She was buxom
and rosy, was the Widow Pratt, with a dangerous dimple over the corner
of her mouth, a decided come-hither in her blue eyes, and a smile that
compelled a response.

"Why, Bettie child, how glad I am to see you!" exclaimed Mother,
rendering the smile from out over her glasses. "I didn't see you all
day yesterday and not the day before, neither. But I put it down to a
work-hold on us both, and didn't worry none. And now here you are, with
some of the little folks! Here's a empty spool for little Bettie," and
she held out the treasure to the toddler, who sidled up to her knee
with confidence to grasp the gift.

"I told Pattie Hoover if she would stay at home this morning and clean
up some like her Pa wants her to that I'd let my Clara May help her and
would bring the baby on up here to get him outen the way. 'Lias come
along to get you to look at his puppy's foot, and I want you to see if
you don't think the baby have fatted some since I've took holt and
helped Pattie with the feeding of him."

"He have that," answered Mother heartily. "I can tell it without even
feeling of his legs. You've got the growing hand with babies, Bettie,
and I'm glad you don't hold it back from this little half-orphant. I
don't know what the poor little Hoovers would do without you!"

"That's what poor Mr. Hoover says," answered Bettie with the utmost
unconsciousness. "Show Mis' Mayberry the puppy's foot, 'Lias."

"Why, the pitiful little thing!" exclaimed Mother when a small, brown,
crushed paw was presented to her inspection. "What happened to it?"

"Mr. Petway's horse stepped on it--he didn't care. He just got in the
buggy and went on. I'm a-going to kill him with a gun when I get one."
Tears of rage and grief welled up in 'Lias' eyes, but he choked them
back with a resolution that boded ill for Mr. Petway when the time of
reckoning came.

"You mustn't talk that