was afraid folks
would suspicion the pore Child's secret, the secret that me an you an
nobody else knows, that she took her own life to git out of the misery
you put her in. She did not want them to know, an they shall not;
besides, thar are Folks in this cussed Settlement mean enough to
begrudge her the grave Lot she has becase of what she was driv to.

"Thar is one thing I want you to stop. I dont want you to hire Peter
Slogan with Blood money, nur nobody else, to haul wood fur me. I
knowed you did send a load, fur he is too lazy to think of anybody but
hisself without thar was money in it. I accused him of it after I had
toted the last Stick back to yore land whar he got it. He tried to
deny it, but I saw the lie in his face an shamed it. Dont you bother
about me. I will live a powerful sight longer than you want me to
before I am through with You. You will never forgit how Sally died, ef
you did not look at her pore little face in death nur help the
neighbors fill her grave up.

"John Westerfelt, you killed my Child as deliberately as ef you had
choked the life out of her with yore Bare hands. You hung after her
night and Day, even after she had been cautioned that you was fickle,
an then when you got her whole soul an hart you deliberately left her
an begun flyin around Liz Lithicum. I know yore sort. It is the
runnin after a thing that amuses you, an as soon as you get it you turn
agin it an spurn it under foot an laugh at it when it strugles in pain.
Lawsy me. God Almighty dont inflict good men with that Disease, but
you will have it nawin at yore Hart tel you run across some huzzy that
will rule you her way. Beware, John Westerfelt, you will want to marry
before long; you are a lonely, selfish Man, an you will want a wife an
childern to keep you company an make you forget yore evil ways, but it
is my constant prayer that you will never git one that loves you. I am
prayin for that very thing and I believe it will come. John
Westerfelt, I am yore Enemy--I am that ef it drags me into the Scorchin
flames of hell.

"SUE DAWSON."

He refolded the letter, put it with quivering fingers back into its
envelope, and then opened the newspaper and held it before his eyes.
There was a clatter of dishes and pans in the back part of the house.
A negro woman was out in the wood-yard, picking up chips and singing a
low camp-meeting hymn. Now and then some one would tramp over the
resounding floor, through