was slowly nagging the life out of her, and simply
because she had been blessed with that which had been denied her--a
daughter. Be this as it may, everybody who knew Mrs. Slogan knew that
she never lost an opportunity to find fault with the girl, who was
considered quite pretty and had really a gentle, lovable disposition.

"Whar's Sally?" asked Mrs. Slogan, when she had laid the quilt away.

"I don't know whar she is," answered Mrs. Dawson. "I reckon she'll be
in directly."

"I'll be bound you don't know whar she is," retorted the other, with
asperity; "you never keep a eye on 'er. Ef you'd a-watched 'er better
an' kept 'er more at home thar never would 'a' been the talk that's now
goin' about an' makin' you an' her the laughin'-stock of the
settlement. I told you all along that John Westerfelt never had
marryin' in the back o' his head, an' only come to see her beca'se she
was sech a fool about 'im."

"I seed 'er down the meadow branch just now," broke in her husband, who
sat smoking his clay pipe on the door-step. "She was hard at it,
pickin' flowers as usual. I swear I never seed the like. That gal
certainly takes the rag off'n the bush. I believe she'd let 'possum
an' taters git cold to pick a daisy. But what's the talk?" he ended,
as he turned his head and looked at his wife, who really was the source
of all his information.

"Why," replied Mrs. Slogan, with undisguised satisfaction in her tone,
"Mis' Simpkins says Westerfelt is goin' with Ab Lithicum's daughter
Lizzie."

"Well," said Slogan, with a short, gurgling laugh, "what's wrong with
that? A feller as well fixed as Westerfelt is ort to be allowed to
look around a little, as folks say in town when they are a-tradin'.
Lord, sometimes I lie awake at night thinkin' what a good time I mought
'a' had an' what I mought 'a' run across ef I hadn't been in sech a
blamed fool hurry! Lawsy me, I seed a deef an' dumb woman in town
t'other day, and, for a wonder, she wasn't married, nur never had been!
I jest looked at that woman an' my mouth fairly watered."

"Yo're a born fool," snorted Mrs. Slogan.

"What's that got to do with John Wester--"

"Sh--" broke in Mrs. Dawson. "I heer Sally a-comin'."

"But I _want_ 'er to heer me," cried the woman appealed to, just as the
subject of the conversation entered the room from the passage which
connected the two parts of the house. "It'll do 'er good, I hope, to
know folks think she has made sech a goo