hat that is from experience, but you ought
to from observation; you've had one under your eye for some time."

"Well, you simply don't approve of it," the woman returned, resentfully.
"You can set there, blessed with good health and life, and plenty to eat
and wear, and actually begrudge the little mite of respect that is paid
to the helpless dead. In being overpersuaded and marrying you I was
untrue to him and his memory, and now you make it worse by opposing a
simple little ordinance that is due every person on earth, high or low."

"It ought to have been done earlier, and before I got--got mixed up in
it, if it was done at all," Henley said, trying to speak mildly and,
even, pacifically.

"I know that now," Mrs. Henley said, in a tone of such deep
self-reproach that her stare softened and wavered; "but it wasn't
thought of. I never knew it was the style till this man come along and
told me; but that is no reason I shouldn't make amends, late as it is.
It is all the better proof that Dick is remembered. But you can go to
Texas." The stare hardened and became fixed again. "Folks will say you
are jealous and mean, and that I was an unfaithful fool for listening to
you, but I will have to stand it."

"Well, I'll simply be obliged to be away," Henley said, doggedly. "The
business won't be put off, and--and--"

"And you are a heartless brute!" the gaunt woman cried, as she whirled
from him and strode into the house.

A few minutes later there emerged from the near-by door of the kitchen
the real instigator of the present dispute. He trudged across the
passage, drawn down on one side by the weight of a dripping swill-pail
which he was taking to the pigpen, descended the short flight of steps,
and turned back toward Henley. He stood for a moment hesitatingly, the
pail wiping its dripping exterior against his baggy jean trousers. Then
he said: "I've got a thing or two to say to you, Alf, if you will oblige
me by steppin' down to my pen so I can stop that hog's squealin' long
enough to hear myself talk. One at a time, I say, an' let it be me."

"By all means," Henley answered, ambiguously, and he joined Wrinkle on
the grass and they walked down the path together to the pigpen in a
corner of the rail-fenced cow-lot.

"No use enterin' a talkin'-match with the whistle of a crazy
steam-engine," the stepfather-in-law strained his lungs to say, and he
grunted as he raised the pail to the top rail of the pen and cautiously
t