e in. They were awfully lively. The
fellows were singing and cursing and throwing bottles across the street.
Aunt Jane could hardly get up the stairs and had one of her laughing
spells. I think your ma was sober, for I could hear her talking steady
and scolding Aunt Jane about taking a dance from her with some man or
other. Did you see the men? They were the same two that had 'em out last
Friday night, the big one your ma likes and the one Aunt Jane says is
hers. I heard your ma say they were horse-traders from Kentucky, and
have lots and lots of money to spend. That jewelry drummer--do you
remember, that gave me the red pin?--he sent them with a note of
introduction. The pin was no good. The shine is already off of
it--wasn't even washed with gold."

John was scarcely heeding what she said. He had taken a piece of paper
from his pocket, and with a brick-layer's flat pencil was making some
calculations in regard to a wall he was building. The light was
insufficient at the door and he was now bending over the table near the
lamp.

"Do you want me to make you some flour-and-cream gravy?" she asked,
ignorant of his desire to be undisturbed. "The milk looks good and rich
this morning."

"No, no!" And he swore under his breath. "Don't you see I'm figuring?
Now I'll have to add up again."

She made the gravy, anyway. She took out the fried bacon, sprinkled
flour in the brown grease, stirred the mixture vigorously, and then
there was a great sizzling as she added a cup of milk, and, in a cloud
of fragrant steam, still stood stirring. "There," she said, more to
herself than to him. "I'm going to pour it over the bacon. It is better
that way."

He had finished his figuring and now turned to her. "Are your biscuits
done?" he asked. "I think I smell them."

"Just about," she answered, and she threw open the door of the oven,
and, holding the hot pan with the long skirt of her dress, she drew it
out. "Good! Just right!" she chuckled. "Now, where do you want to
eat--here or in the dining-room? The table is set in there. Come on. You
bring the coffee-pot."

Still absently, for his thoughts were on his figures, he followed her
into the adjoining room. It was a bare-looking place, in the dim light
of the lamp which she placed in the center of the small, square table
with its red cloth, for there was no furniture but three or four chairs,
a tattered strip of carpeting, and an old-fashioned safe with perforated
tin panels. Two