"Yes, sir, I'd been hearin' about old man Rhett's Polly fo'
considerable of a spell," said Cavendish, looking at Polly
reflectively. "He lived up at the head waters of the Elk River.
Fellows who had been to his place, when girls was mentioned would
sort of shake their heads sad-like and say, 'Yes, but you had
ought to see old man Rhett's Polly, all the rest is imitations!'
Seemed like they couldn't get her off their minds. So I just
slung my kit to my back, shouldered my rifle, and hoofed it
up-stream. I says, I'll see for myself where this here paragon
lays it all over the rest of her sect, but sho--the closter I
came to old man Rhett the mo' I heard of Polly!"

"Dick, how you do run on," cried Polly protestingly, but Chills
and Fever's knightly soul dwelt in its illusions, and the years
had not made stale his romance. Also Polly was beaming on him
with a wealth of affection.

"I seen her fo' the first time as I was warmin' the trail within
a mile of old man Rhett's. She was carrying a grist of co'n down
to the mill in her father's ox cart. When I clapped eyes on her
I says, 'I'll marry that lady. I'll make her the Countess of
Lambeth--she'll shore do fo' the peerage any day!' That was yo'
mommy, sneezic's!" Mr. Cavendish paused to address himself to
the baby whom Connie had relinquished to him.

"You bet I made time the rest of the way. I says, 'She's sixteen
if she's a day, and all looks!' I broke into old man Rhett's
clearin' on a keen run. He was a settin' afo' his do' smokin'
his pipe and he glanced me over kind of weary-like and says,
'Howdy!' It wa'n't much of a greetin' the way he said it either;