before her father. At once the music ceased and the violin was
laid carefully aside. Sammy seated herself on her father's knee.

"Law', child, but you're sure growin' up," said Jim, with a mock
groan at her weight.

"Yes, Daddy, I reckon I'm about growed; I'll be nineteen come
Christmas."

"O shucks!" ejaculated the man. "It wasn't more'n last week that
you was washin' doll clothes, down by the spring."

The young woman laughed. "I didn't wash no doll clothes last
week," she said. Then her voice changed, and that wide,
questioning look, the look that made one think so of her father,
came into her eyes. "There's something I want to ask you, Daddy
Jim. You--you know--Ollie's goin' away, an'--an'--an' I was
thinkin' about it all day yesterday, an', Daddy, why ain't we got
no folks?"

Mr. Lane stirred uneasily. Sammy continued, "There's the
Matthews's, they've got kin back in Illinois; Mandy Ford's got
uncles and aunts over on Lang Creek; Jed Holland's got a grandad
and mam, and even Preachin' Bill talks about a pack o' kin folks
over in Arkansaw. Why ain't we got no folks, Daddy?"

The man gazed long and thoughtfully at the fresh young face of his
child; and the black eyes looked into the brown eyes keenly, as he
answered her question with another question, "Do you reckon you
love him right smart, honey? Are you sure, dead sure you ain't