ress
McVeigh. Perhaps it is because you're fairly strong in that quarter
yourself," commented Mr. Moore, after he had digested Nancy's crude
philosophy.

A smile crept into the corners of Nancy's mouth at the compliment, and
she let it rest there a few minutes before replying.

"Ye've noticed that young John's a regular visitor at the tavern
lately?" she asked.

"I have."

"Doubtless ye think I'm profitin' mightily with the money he passes
over my bar."

"The gain will do you no good if you are," Moore declared, stoutly.
His hostess was a very plain-spoken woman, and he knew that he could be
equally outspoken and yet incur no disfavor.

Nancy lingered over his remark, carefully revolving its significance in
her mind before attempting to defend herself.

"Tavern-keepin' is a mighty peculiar business, Mr. Moore. Ye're open
to a lot o' criticism, and sometimes ye know in yer heart it's not
quite fair. When I was married, my friends thought the inn would be a
foine chance fer us to get along, so McVeigh bought it. I cooked good
vittals, and waited on table meself in those days, an' times were
brisk, because the railroad was bein' built past our door. Then
McVeigh died, an' I had to stay by the old place, because I had nowhere
else to go. 'Twas after that people began accusin' me o' fattenin' on
the bones o' their misfortunes. And d'ye know why?"

Moore remained silent, but his looks were expectant, so Nancy
continued: "Because I was makin' enough money to pay me debts with and
keep a respectable house. I have always endeavored to give honest
value, and let no man go beyond his means in the spendin'. Of course,
I must have my trade, fer my expenses are high, seein' that I keep a
few children about me whom nobody else wants, an' I have my Corney to
do fer occasionally, but I never made more'n I could comfortably get
along with. My interest to John Keene is no such a small item, an' why
should I refuse if the son helps me to pay it with his trade? It's no
so unjust, ye see. But, for all that, I have a mother's love for young
John. Ever since he was ten years old I have carried him into town in
me buggy, wheniver he had a mind to go. Ye see, he an' me had some
great talks then, an' since he brings all his troubles to me. While
other people have been blamin' him fer his capers I've been makin' up
my mind whether he will turn into the right again or no."

"And what think you about him now?" questioned M