truth, a motherly-looking person, her fleshy face creased with strong
character.

"Who hev ye brought with ye?" she asked, glancing at me.

"A lad Polly Ann took a shine to in the settlements," said the old man.
"Polly Ann! Polly Ann!" he cried sharply, "we'll hev to be gittin'
home." And then, as though an afterthought (which it really was not), he
added, "How be ye for salt, Mis' McChesney?"

"So-so," said she.

"Wal, I reckon a little might come handy," said he. And to the girl who
stood panting beside him, "Polly, give Mis' McChesney some salt."

Polly Ann did, and generously,--the salt they had carried with so much
labor threescore and ten miles from the settlements. Then we took our
departure, the girl turning for one last look at Tom's mother, and at the
cabin where he had dwelt. We were all silent the rest of the way,
climbing the slender trail through the forest over the gap into the next
valley. For I was jealous of Tom. I am not ashamed to own it now.

In the smoky haze that rises just before night lets her curtain fall, we
descended the farther slope, and came to Mr. Ripley's cabin.



CHAPTER VII

IN SIGHT OF THE BLUE WALL ONCE MORE