pleading, upturned gaze. He was about to charge her to go back.
But then he remembered how she had followed him with blessings--how
mercy had kept pace with her steps. He would not deny her the
simple boon she craved, and if she were troublesome and in his way,
surely he might be patient with her, since she loved him so! He
lifted her over the fence, and then started briskly down the path,
the sturdy, light-footed little mountain girl delightedly trudging
along in the rear.

When he entered the tanyard no one was there except Jube Perkins and
Andy Byers the tanner, lounging as usual on the wood-pile, and the
workman, with scarcely less the aspect of idleness, dawdlingly
scraping a hide on the wooden horse. Birt discerned a portent in
the unwonted solemnity of their faces, and his heart sank.

"Waal, Birt, we-uns hev been a-waitin' fur ye," said the tanner in a
subdued, grave tone that somehow reminded Birt of the bated voices
in a house of death. "Set down hyar on the wood-pile, fur Andy an'
me hev got a word ter say ter ye."

Birt's dilated black eyes turned in dumb appeal from one to the
other as he sank down on the wood-pile. His suspense gnawed him
like an actual grief while Jubal Perkins slowly shifted his position
and looked vaguely at Andy Byers for a suggestion, being uncertain
how to begin.

"Waal, Birt," he drawled at last, "ez yer dad is dead an' ye hev got
nobody ter see arter ye an' advise ye, Andy an' me, we-uns agreed ez
how we'd talk ter ye right plain, an' try ter git ye ter jedge o'
this hyar matter like we-uns do. Andy an' me know more 'bout the