enjoy the tolerance that he displayed. The hero worship--the
natural imitation of youth-- was at least not unpleasant, and
there had been days during a brief absence of the boy when
Christopher had, to his surprise, become aware of a positive
vacancy in his surroundings. So long as Will made no evident
attempt to rise above him--so long, indeed, as Fletcher's
grandson kept to Fletcher's level, it was possible that the
companionship would continue as harmoniously as it had begun. In
the store he found Tom Spade and his wife--an angular,
strong-featured woman, in purple calico, who carried off the
reputation of a shrew with noisy honours. When he asked for Will,
the storekeeper turned from the cash-drawer which he was emptying
and nodded toward the half-open door of the adjoining room.

"Several of the young fellows are in thar now," he remarked
offhand, "an' I've jest had to go in an' git between Fred Turner
an' Will Fletcher. They came to out an' out blows, an' I had to
shake 'em both by the scuff of thar necks befo' they'd hish

snarlin'. Bless yo' life, all about a woman, too, every last word
of it. Well, well, meanin' no disrespect to you, Susan, it's a
queer thing that a man can't be born, married, or buried without
a woman gittin' herself mixed up in the business. If she ain't
wrappin' you in swaddlin' bands, you may be sho' she's measurin'
off yo' windin'-sheet. Mark my words, Mr. Christopher, I don't
believe thar's ever been a fight fought on this earth--be it a
battle or a plain fisticuff--that it warn't started in the brain
of somebody's mother, wife, or sweetheart an' it's most likely to
have been the sweetheart. It is strange, when you come to study
'bout it, how sech peaceable-lookin' creaturs as women kin have