in a sort
of lordly way, after the fashion of many idlers in this world who
without scruple appropriate the results of industry.

She had often noted an old codger whose place backed up on hers, but
had never held any converse with him. This morning, however, he seemed
inclined to break the ice, as it were, for as she strutted about he
leaned on the fence and said cheerily:

"Good-morning, neighbor."

Nannie gave one glance at his old broad-brimmed straw hat and rusty
overalls, and then said with a certain winning sauciness all her own:

"Good-morning, old Hayseed."

The man laughed. He had a rotund, jovial countenance, which even his
smoked glasses could not plunge into gloom. His every feature had an
upward turn, and there was something strong and good about the face
that made one feel that his heart also curved upward.

"So ye're gard'nin', be yer?" he remarked by way of introduction.

"No, I ain't," said Nannie curtly. "Steve gardens, and you know it.
You've seen him bent like a bow over these beds ever since we came
here."

"Yes, that's so."

"And I've held myself as straight as an arrow."

"Now thet's so, too," and the old man laughed. "Ye're cute, yer air."

"I can see right ahead of me. I don't wear smoked glasses," said
Nannie with a pretty little grimace.

"There's a deal goes on ahind smoked glasses sometimes," said the old
fellow with a laugh.

"How do you keep house?" asked Nannie with an abrupt change of
subject. "You haven't any wife or daughter."

"I don't keep it; jest trust it. Don't turn no key nor nothin' on it,
an' I ain't never knowed it to stray outside ther yard. Ther's a heap
in hevin' faith in things."

Nannie's face grew thoughtful.

"Yer kin 'most b'lieve a man inter bein' honest, an' I reckon it acts
ther same on wimmin, though they be a leetle different."

Nannie looked up from under her curls with a glance half inquiring,
half defiant.

"When wimmin's young they be like a colt--it's hard ter keep 'em
stiddy. When they git older they be somethin' like a mule--it's hard
ter start 'em up now an' agin."

"I guess men are the same. They belong to the same stock--all the
world's akin, you know," said Nannie mischievously.

"All the world's akin, eh?" said the old man slowly, turning this
thought over in his mind. "Well, now, mebbe thet's so, but if it is
ther's a deal of difference atween ther cousins."

Again Nannie's face grew thoughtful. Then she raised her eyes a