on which polish for the stovepipe aforesaid had been lavishly coated.

It was Miss Doc Dennihan. Having duly heard of the advent of a quaint
little boy, found in the brush by the miner, she had come thus early in
the morning to gratify a certain hunger that her nature felt for the
sight of a child. But always one of the good woman's prides had been
concealment of her feelings, desires, and appetites. She had formed a
habit, likewise, of hiding not a few of her intentions. Instead of
inquiring now for what she sought, she glanced swiftly about the
interior of the cabin and said:

"Ain't you lazy-joints got up yet in this here cabin?"

"Been up and hoisted the sun and went back to bed," drawled Jim, while
Keno drew far back in his berth and fortified himself behind his
blankets. "Glad to see you, but sorry you've got to be goin' again so
soon."

"I 'ain't got to be goin'," corrected the visitor, with decision. "I
jest thought I'd call in and see if your clothin' and kitchen truck was
needin' a woman's hand. Breakfast over to our house is finished and
John has went to work, and everything has bin did up complete, so
'tain't as if I was takin' the time away from John; and this here place
is disgraceful dirty, as I could see with nuthin' but a store eye. Is
these here over-halls your'n?"

"When I'm in 'em I reckon they are," drawled Jim, in some disquietude
of mind. "But don't you touch 'em! Them pants is heirlooms. Wouldn't
have anybody fool with them for a million dollars."