be yeh?"

It took some time to answer this question
in a satisfactory manner, but at length Flora
was able to return to her original topic.

"But the shack, Bart! Who lives there,
anyway?"

"I'm not acquainted with 'em," said Bart,
sharply. "Ain't them biscuits done, Flora?"

Then, of course, she grew obstinate.

"Those biscuits will never be done, Bart,
till I know about that house, and why you
never spoke of it, and why nobody ever comes
down the road from there. Some one lives
there I know, for in the mornings and at night
I see the smoke coming out of the chimney."

"Do you now?" cried Bart, opening his
eyes and looking at her with unfeigned inter-
est. "Well, do you know, sometimes I've
fancied I seen that too?"

"Well, why not," cried Flora, in half anger.
"Why shouldn't you?"

"See here, Flora, take them biscuits out an'