mall or too illusive to escape his eye. His interests
were under a microscopic view and all plans that were drawn in the
little brick office at the corner of the yard, were rigorously carried
out in the fields. In the one place he was all business; in the other
there was in him an admixture of good humor and executive thoroughness.
He knew how many pounds of cotton a certain man or woman was likely to
pick within the working hours of a day, and he marked the clean and the
trashy pickers; and the play of his two-colored temperament was seen in
his jovial banter of the one and his harsh reprimand of the other. But
to-day a hired man stood at the scales to see the cotton weighed. The
Major walked abroad throughout the fields. As he drew near, the negroes
hushed their songs and their swaggering talk. They bowed respectfully to
him and to one another whispered his affliction. At noon, when he
returned home, the housekeeper told him that his wife was away. He sat
down in the library to wait for her. Looking out he saw Sallie Pruitt
carrying a jug across the yard. A few moments later he asked for Tom and
was told that he had just left the house. He tried to read, but nothing
interested him. There was nothing but dullness in the newspaper and even
Ivanhoe had lost his charm. It was nearly three o'clock when Mrs.
Cranceford returned. He did not ask whither she had gone; he waited to
be told. She sat down, taking off her gloves.

"Did you see Mr. Perdue?" she asked.

"No, I have seen no one. Don't care much to see any one."

"I didn't know but you might have met him. He was here this morning.
Told me about Louise."

"What does he know about her?"

"He told me where she had gone to live--in that old log house at the
far end of the Anthony place."

"Well, go on, I'm listening."

"I didn't know that you cared to hear."

"Then why did you begin to tell me?"

She did not answer this question. She waited for him to say more. "Of
course I'd like to know what has become of her."

"I went over to see her," said Mrs. Cranceford.

"The deuce you did."

"John, don't talk that way."

"I won't. You went to see her."

"Yes, and in that miserable house, all open, she is nursing her dying
husband."

The Major got up and began to walk about the room. "Don't, Margaret, I'd
rather not hear about it."

"But you must hear. No place could be more desolate. The wind was
moaning in the old plum thicket. The gate was down and hogs wer