grandpa is down on you on account of your father, and that you
don't like bookkeepin', and that you want to write poetry and--and such.
You'll say all that, and maybe it's all true, but whether 'tis or not
ain't the point at all just now. The real point is that you're Janie
Snow's son and your grandpa's Cap'n Lote Snow and your grandma's Olive
Snow and there ain't goin' to be another smash-up in this family if I
can help it. I've been through one and one's enough. Albert, didn't you
promise me that Sunday forenoon three years ago when I came into the
settin'-room and we got talkin' about books and Robert Penfold and
everything--didn't you promise me then that when things between you and
your grandpa got kind of--of snarled up and full of knots you'd come
to me with 'em and we'd see if we couldn't straighten 'em out together?
Didn't you promise me that, Albert?"

Albert remembered the conversation to which she referred. As he
remembered it, however, he had not made any definite promise.

"You asked me to talk them over with you, Rachel," he admitted. "I think
that's about as far as it went."

"Well, maybe so, but now I ask you again. Will you talk this over with
me, Albert? Will you tell me every bit all about it, for my sake? And
for your grandma's sake. . . . Yes, more'n that, for your mother's sake,
Albert; she was pretty nigh like my own sister, Jane Snow was. Different
as night from day of course, she was pretty and educated and all that
and I was just the same then as I am now, but we did think a lot of each
other, Albert. Tell me the whole story, won't you, please. Just what
Cap'n Lote said and what you said and what you plan to do--and all?
Please, Albert."

There were tears in her eyes. He had always liked her, but it was
a liking with a trace of condescension in it. She was peculiar, her
"sympathetic attacks" were funny, and she and Laban together were an odd
pair. Now he saw her in a new light and he felt a sudden rush of real
affection for her. And with this feeling, and inspired also by his
loneliness, came the impulse to comply with her request, to tell her all
his troubles.

He began slowly at first, but as he went on the words came quicker. She
listened eagerly, nodding occasionally, but saying nothing. When he had
finished she nodded again.

"I see," she said. "'Twas almost what Laban said and about what he and
I expected. Well, Albert, I ain't goin' to be the one to blame you, not
very much anyho