r the
precipice of desperation, and it required some pointed talks to hold her
steady.

The second event in her life had been of more recent date: Brent.

As old Zack now neared the ramshackle house, he saw her leaning over
the crooked gate. Not infrequently of late he had carried a note to her,
and he rather felt that she might be looking for one today.

She smiled, showing a really exquisite line of teeth between lips full
and inviting. Her mouth was large, as though Nature, realizing her
possession of one exceptional quality, had made the most of it. Around
her neck hung a simple garnet pendant which Zack had noticed only in the
last few days; and now, as she stood with chin up-tilted, the sunlight
struck this stone sending a soft, crimson gleam of dull fire across the
white skin below her throat.

"Mawnin', Miss Nancy," he made a perfunctory bow.

"Good mornin', Uncle Zack."

"How's yoh folks?" the old man asked. It was warm, he was weary of the
ride and wanted to talk.

"They're well, thanks." She did not ask after those at Arden.

He folded his hands on the pummel and let his feet slip out of the
uncertain rope stirrups. Sitting thus relaxed, for a moment he looked
meditatively at the old mule's drooping ears, then reached in his
pocket, brought out a red handkerchief of the bandanna type and wiped
his brow. He had something to tell her--she knew this! But she knew,
too, from experience that when he brought a message he must take his own
time about delivering it.

"Dat's a mighty spry gemmen over to our house," he finally remarked.

"Mr. Brent?" she flushed a little.

"No-deedy! He's spry, too; but dis'n I'm talkin' 'bout jes' come."

"Yes, I heard about him," she said. "A sort of hill-billy, isn't he?"

"Now, how'd you heah dat?" the old fellow looked down at her. "He only
got dar las' night!"

"I don't remember--somebody came by an' told Pappy, I reckon."

"It do beat all how tales travel," he doubtfully shook his head. "But
don' you put no stock in him bein' a hill-billy! Long haih an' s'penders
don' make no greenhorn. Dey never has yit, an' dey never will--any moh'n
a Adam's Apple do; an' I got a Adam's Apple mahse'f, sech as 'tis! I got
sumfin else, too!" He slowly closed one eye and looked up at the sky.

"A note?" she laughed.

"Dat ain' so fur off!"

"A message?"

"You sho' guessed it dat time!" he chuckled. "Some-un suttenly do a lot
of thinkin' 'bout some-un--dat's all I got to sa