anny what s--s--sort of medicine she t--t--t--take--takes. If you
go to church Sunday, L--L--L--Lou, I may see you there. G--g--g--got
somethin' to s--s--s--say to you."

"How are you going to manage to say it?" Lou asked and he began to make
signs.

"Perhaps," said Mrs. Mayfield, "what he has to say could be conveyed by
signs."

"Yes," Tom declared, "signs are very impressive. Fellow made a few at me
once and when he got through I found he'd knocked me down."

"Knocked you down!" cried Lou. "Oh, how could anybody knock you down?"

Mrs. Mayfield looked at Jim. "How charming to be a hero in the sight of
a beautiful eye."

Jim drooped and said: "Yes'm."

Mose who had been screwing up his face began again: "Feller knock me
down have me to w--w--w--w--whup."

The voice of Kintchin, driving the steers, came up the hill: "Whoa, hor,
Buck, come yere. Come yere Bright." Mose remarked after a serious effort
that the steers must have about all they could pull, and then added that
he must be going. Tom asked if he found it difficult to pull himself
loose, and his aunt cried out! "Why Thomas." Kintchin's voice was heard
again, further off and Mose said he "reckoned" he'd have to be pulled
out by the steers. Margaret who had been searching the safe and the
"cubbo'd", bade him wait a moment, that she had some medicine for him.
"Here," she said, giving him two small packages, "'is some quinine and
some calomy. Tell yo' granny not to take too much of the calomy. Mout
salavater her."

"Yes'm. But it won't m--m--m--m--make any diffunce with granny
w--w--w--wuther she's s--s--s--salivated or not. She ain't got no teeth.
And b--b--b--besides, she likes the quinine better. She's
d--d--d--d--deef and the q--q--q--quinine makes her head
r--r--r--r--roar and she thinks she's hearin' suthin'. Well, er
g--g--g--g--good day."

"Miz Mayfield," said Margaret, when Mose was gone, "I reckon these folks
air mighty queer to you."

"Oh, no, they are close to nature in her most whimsical mood, and a
mother of fun is better than a step-mother to scandal."

"I don't know what you mean, auntie" said Tom, "and I don't guess you
do, but I'll bet they are game and that is enough to make them all right
with me."

"Why," Lou replied, "the man that won't fight is a Judas."

"Good," cried Tom, taking her hands. "I'd rather hear a girl say that
than to hear her play a symphony. Before my father was a judge he was a
soldier. Now they call him a le