furrow, in which to plant the seeds of character and worth. He
thought of other women who had sat with him on hotel verandas, at
fashionable watering places; women gowned in silks and laces;
women whose soft hands knew no heavier task than the filmy fancy
work they toyed with, and whose greatest care, seemingly, was that
time should leave upon their faces no record of the passing years.
"And this is the stuff," said he to himself, "that makes possible
the civilization that produces them." Aloud, he said, "Do you ever
talk of going back to your old home?"

"No, sir, not now;" she rested her wet hands idly on the edge of
the pan of potatoes, and turned her face toward the clump of
pines. "We used to think we'd go back sometime; seemed like at
first I couldn't stand it; then the children come, and every time
we laid one of them over there I thought less about leavin', until
now we never talk about it no more. Then there was our girl, too,
Mr. Howitt. No, sir, we won't never leave these hills now."

"Oh, you had a daughter, too? I understood from Mr. Matthews that
your children were all boys."

Aunt Mollie worked a few moments longer in silence, then arose and
turned toward the house. "Yes, sir, there was a girl; she's buried
under that biggest pine you see off there a little to one side.
We--we--don't never talk about her. Mr. Matthews can't stand it.
Seems like he ain't never been the same since--since--it happened.
'Tain't natural for him to be so rough and short; he's just as
good and kind inside as any man ever was or could be. He's real
taken with you, Mr. Howitt, and I'm mighty glad you're goin' to
stop a spell, for it will do him good. If it hadn't been for Sammy