"Sheeley's?" repeated Myrtella, her curiosity getting the better of
her temper, as she removed an old shoe and a flour sifter from the
nearest chair and sat down.

"Yes, he's our landlord, but he gits another man to collect. Guess you
heard about his gittin' shot?"

"Read every word that's been printed. Is he goin' to die?"

"Not him. Ain't nothin' the matter with him 'ceptin' his eye is blowed
out. My uncle, back home, got both his eyes--You, Chick!" this to an
invisible presence that manifested itself only through a shower of
pebbles that followed in the wake of a fleeing cat. "Go up to the
saloon, Chick, and tell yer Pappy he'll have to come on home. Yer Aunt
'Tella's here."

"Don't look like he grows a inch a year," said Myrtella thoughtfully,
watching him depart.

"That there Mrs. Ivy's been after me agin to send him to the Widows
and Orphans' Home. She says she can git him in, and they'll learn him
to read and write."

"Well, he ain't goin'! I guess as long as I'm a payin' the grocery
bills, I got a right to say who'll eat the food! What's that you are
hidin'?"

Maria, who had been attempting to remove something surreptitiously
from the table, looked apologetic.