My brother continued, curtly: "This is not the time nor the place for
you to buck about what you've done and whom you've done. Under the
present circumstances--you're an old man--what you've left undone
ought to be engrossing your attention."

"Meanin'?"

Pap had glanced furtively from face to face, reading in each rough
countenance derision and contempt. The masks which the poor wear in
the presence of the rich were off.

"I mean," Ajax replied, savagely--so savagely that the old man
recoiled and nearly fell off the barrel--"I mean, Mr. Spooner, that
the diphtheria has come to Paradise, and is likely to stay here so
long as there is flesh for it to feed on."

"The diptheery?" exclaimed Pap.

Into his eyes--those dull grey eyes--flitted terror and horror. But
Ajax saw nothing but what had festered so long in his own mind.

"Aye--the diphtheria! You are rich, Mr. Spooner; you can follow your
cattle into a healthier country than this. My advice to you is--Get!"

The old man stared; then he slid off the barrel and shambled out of
the store as little Sissy Leadham entered it. The child looked
curiously at Andrew Spooner.

"What's the matter with Pap?" she asked, shrilly.