regretted having told him her story.

"Poor creatures," he rejoined. "I wonder why they came down to that
fever-hole."

She laughed ironically. "To better themselves! It's worse up on the
Mountain. Bash Hyatt married the daughter of the farmer that used to own
the brown house. That was him by the stove, I suppose."

Harney seemed to find nothing to say and she went on: "I saw you take
out a dollar to give to that poor woman. Why did you put it back?"

He reddened, and leaned forward to flick a swamp-fly from the horse's
neck. "I wasn't sure----"

"Was it because you knew they were my folks, and thought I'd be ashamed
to see you give them money?"

He turned to her with eyes full of reproach. "Oh, Charity----" It was
the first time he had ever called her by her name. Her misery welled
over.

"I ain't--I ain't ashamed. They're my people, and I ain't ashamed of
them," she sobbed.

"My dear..." he murmured, putting his arm about her; and she leaned
against him and wept out her pain.

It was too late to go around to Hamblin, and all the stars were out in a
clear sky when they reached the North Dormer valley and drove up to the