ewart?
Didn't he come home with you?"

"Ollie's at home, I suppose. I have been up to the Lookout talking
to Pete."

"Ain't Ollie goin' back to the city to-morrow?"

"No, not to-morrow; the next day. He's coming over here to-morrow
afternoon. Then he's going away." Then, before Jim could ask
another question, she held up the half of a ham; "Daddy, Daddy!
How many times have I told you that you must not--you must not
slice the ham with your pocket knife? Just look there! What would
Aunt Mollie say if she saw that, so haggled and one sided?"

All during the evening meal, the girl kept up a ceaseless merry
chatter, changing the subject abruptly every time it approached
the question that her father was most anxious to ask. And the man
delighted with her gay mood responded to it, as he answered to all
her moods, until they were like two school children in their fun.
But, when supper was over and the work done, and Jim, taking down
his violin, would have made music, Sammy promptly relieved him of
his instrument, and seated herself on his knee. "Not to-night,
Daddy. I want to talk to-night, real serious."

She told him then of the encounter with Wash Gibbs and his friend
at the mill, together with the story that Pete had illustrated so
vividly at the Lookout. "And so, Daddy," she finished; "I know now
what I shall do. He will come to-morrow afternoon to say good-by,
and then he will go away again back to the city and his fine
friends for good. And I'll stay and take care of my Daddy Jim. It
isn't that he is a bad man like Wash Gibbs. He couldn't be a bad
man like that; he isn't big enough. And that's just it. He is too
little--body, soul and spirit--he is too little. He will do well
in the world; perhaps he will even do big things. But I heard dear
old Preachin' Bill say once, that 'some fellers can do mighty big
things in a durned little way.' So he is going back to the city,
and I am going to stay in the hills."

Jim took no pains to hide his delight. "I knowed it, girl. I
knowed it. Bank on the old blood every time. There ain't a drop of
yeller in it; not a drop, Sammy. Ollie ain't to say bad, but he
ain't just our kind. Lord! But I'd like to o' seen Young Matt a
givin' it to Wash Gibbs!" He threw back his head and roared with
delight. "Just wait 'till I see Wash. I'll ask him if he thinks
Young Matt would need a pry for to lift that mill engine with,
now." Then all of a sudden the laugh died out, and the man's dar