ic temperament almost apprehensive.

"She's a queer girl, is Pearlie," she said that night, when Pearl had
gone upstairs to arbitrate a quarrel which had broken out between
Bugsey and Danny as to whose turn it was to split the kindling wood.
"Day about" it had been until Bugsey had urged that it be changed to
"week about," and the delicate matter in dispute now was as to the day
on which the week expired. Danny, who had been doing the kindling, was
certain that the date of expiry had arrived, but Bugsey's calendar
set the day one day later, and the battle raged, with both sides ably
argued, but unfortunately not listened to by the opposing forces.

"She's a queer child, is Pearlie," said Mrs. Watson, as she beat up
the bread-batter downstairs, "she's that light-hearted and free from
care, and her eighteen years old. She's like somethin' that don't
belong on earth, with her two big eyes shinin' like lamps, and the way
she sings through the house, settin' the table or scourin' the milk
pails or mendin' a coat for the boys--it don't seem natural. She's too
happy, whatever its' about, and it makes me afraid for her. She's the
kind that sees nothin' wrong, and won't see trouble comin' till its
too late. I often feel afraid she's too good and happy for this world.
She's always been the same, liltin' and singin' and makin' everyone
happy around her."

Jimmy was washing his face in the enamel basin which stood on a box
below the mirror, and looking around with a dripping wet face, felt
with a wildy swinging motion of his arms for the towel. When he had
secured it, and all danger of soapsuds getting into his eyes was
removed, he joined the conversation.

"Gosh, Ma!" he said, "you don't know Pearl, she's not the saint you
take her for. I'll bet the Tucker kids don't think she's too good to
live. Not much! They know she can hold up her end of a row as well as
any one. When she found out they had killed the cat they got from
us, and tanned the skin to make a rim on a cap, you should have seen
Pearl. She just cut loose on the two of them, and chased them through
the sloughs and up the road clear home--larrupin' them with a binder
whip, as fast as she could swing it--the yowls out of them would have
done your heart good!"

Mrs. Watson stopped her work, with her floury hands raised in
consternation.

"God's mercy," she cried, "did Pearl do that--and both of them
bigger'n her. Ain't it a wonder they did not turn on her?"

"Tur