't think
anybody here would have any money to invest in such truck, and he'd have
his own way. He said about the only man hereabouts that he'd have to
contend with would be old Welborne, but he would risk him. He don't
often allude to home matters, Miss Dixie, but I think Alf counts on
havin' things up at the house a little smoother than they was when he
went off."

"And maybe he will," the girl answered, thoughtfully, as she turned
away.

The only boarders Mrs. Henley had at this time were a certain young
married pair, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Allen, who had arrived only a week
before with a baby not yet a month old. Allen was a travelling
sewing-machine agent, and boarded his wife and child at some farm-house
while he drove about the country in a buggy with a sample machine to
instruct women in the use of it and take orders.

When Mrs. Allen heard the report that Henley was coming back, she was
considerably disturbed by the thought that she and hers might not be
wanted any longer. She nursed her fears all the morning, and finally,
with the infant on her arm, she went out to Mrs. Henley, who was in the
back-garden gathering cucumbers for the dinner-table.

"I reckon I'd as well come to the point an' be done with it," Mrs. Allen
began, timidly. She was thin, had blue eyes and faded blond hair, used
snuff, as was indicated by the brownish deposits in the corners of her
mouth and her stained teeth. "I want to speak to you about yore
husband."

"Well, what is it?" Mrs. Henley asked, as she drew herself up and peered
at the speaker from the hood of her sunbonnet, and rested her pan of
cucumbers on her hip.

"Why, they all say he's comin' home," said Mrs. Allen. "I've heard yore
father-in--I mean, I've heard old Mr. Wrinkle say that yore husband,
never havin' had children, can't abide babies, an' I got bothered. My
little darlin' don't cry much--in fact, compared to most babies, it's a
purty good un. It did cry some just a minute ago, but that wasn't its
fault. It was mine. Like a plumb fool, who certainly ought to have had
more sense, I was takin' a dip o' snuff from my box as I come out of the
house, an' a sudden whiff of wind round the corner blowed a speck of it
in the little thing's eyes. You know it stings like ackerfortis. We are
goin' next week, anyway, you see."

"Well, you needn't let my husband's coming hurry you off," Mrs. Henley
answered, as she reached out to a bean-pole and bore down on it that she
might