fields, now no longer his as he realized. "Gid has got the right of
it, and it wasn't honest of us to hold on at this losing rate as long
as we did. There is just a little more value to the land than the
mortgage, I take it, and we can pay the behind interest with that, and
when we do move offen the place we won't leave debt to nobody on it,
even if we do leave--the graves."

"Did he say--when--when he expected you to--give up the Briars?" asked
Rose Mary in a guarded tone of voice, as if she wanted to be sure of
all the facts before she told of the climax she saw had not been even
suggested to Uncle Tucker.

"Oh, no; Gid handled the talk mighty kind-like. I think it's better to
let folks always chaw their own hard tack instead of trying to grind
it up friendly for them, cause the swalloring of the trouble has to
come in the end; but Gid minced facts faithful for me, according to
his lights. I didn't rightly make out just what he did expect, only we
couldn't go on as we were--and that I've been knowing for some time."

"Yes, we've both known that," said Rose Mary, still suspending her
announcement, she scarcely knew why.

"He talked like he was a-going to turn the Briars into a kinder orphan
asylum for us old folks and spread-eagled around about something he
didn't seem to be able to spit out with good sense. But I reckon I was
kinder confused by the shock and wasn't right peart myself to take in
his language." And Uncle Tucker sank into a chair, and Rose Mary could
see that he was trembling from the strain. His big eyes were sunk far
back into his head and his shoulders stooped more than she had ever
seen them.