et her send the word ter me. An'
then he sot himself ter spite an' hector me, an' fairly run me out'n the
town, an' harried me out'n my office; an' when she fund out--she wouldn't
take my word fur it--the deceivin' natur' o' the Kittredge tribe, she
hed hed enough o' 'em. I hev let ye argufy 'bout'n it; ye hev hed yer
fill of words. An' now I be tired out. Ye ain't 'lowin' she'll ever go
back ter her husband, air ye?"

Joe dolorously shook his head.

"Waal, ef ever ye kem hyar talkin' 'bout'n it agin, I'll be 'bleeged ter
take down my rifle ter ye."

Joe gazed, unmoved, into the fire.

"An' that would be mighty hard on me, Joe, 'kase ye be so pop'lar
'mongst all, I dunno _what_ the kentry-side would do ter me ef I war ter
put a bullet inter ye. Ye air a young man, Joe. Ye oughter spare a old
man sech a danger ez that."

And so it happened that Joe Boyd's offices as mediator ceased.

A week went by in silence and without result.

Evelina's tears seemed to keep count of the minutes. The brothers
indignantly noted it, and even the old man was roused from the placid
securities of his theories concerning lachrymose womankind, and
remonstrated sometimes, and sometimes grew angry and exhorted her to
go back. What did it matter to her how her father was treated? He was a
cumberer of the ground, and many people besides her husband had thought
he had no right to sit in a justice's chair. And then she would burst
into tears once more, and declare again that she would never go back.

The only thoroughly cheerful soul about the place was the intruding
Kittredge. He sat continuously--for the weather was fine--on the lowest
log of the wood-pile, and swung his bare pink feet among the chips and
bark, and seemed to have given up all ambition to walk. Occasionally red
and yellow leaves whisked past his astonished eyes, although these were
few now, for November was on the wane. He babbled to the chickens, who
pecked about him with as much indifference as if he were made of wood.
His two teeth came glittering out whenever the rooster crowed, and his
gleeful laugh--he rejoiced so in this handsomely endowed bird--could
be heard to the barn. The dogs seemed never to have known that he was
a Kittredge, and wagged their tails at the very sound of his voice,
and seized surreptitious opportunities to lick his face. Of all his
underfoot world only the gobbler awed him into gravity and silence; he
would gaze in dismay as the marauding fowl