fact. Have I got time for another pipe?"

"No, I don't reckon you have," his wife said, and she passed into the
kitchen again, where she continued to make such short replies as Braile's
discourse required of her.

He knocked his pipe out on the edge of his still uptilted chair, as he
talked. "One fool like Abel I can stand, and I was just going to come in
when Sally came in sight; and then I knew that two fools like Abel would
make me sick. So I waited till the Creator of heaven and earth could get a
minute off and help me out. But He seemed pretty busy with the solar
system this morning, and I had about given up when He sent that Gillespie
girl in sight. I knew that would fetch Sally; but it was an inspiration of
my own to suggest Abel's chance to him; I don't want to put that on your
Maker, Martha."

"It was your inspiration to get him to stay in the first place," Mrs.
Braile said within.

"No, Martha; that was my unfailing obedience to the sacred laws of
hospitality; I _didn't_ expect to fall under their condemnation a
second time, though." Mrs. Braile did not answer, and by the familiar
scent from within, Braile knew that his coffee must be nearly ready. As he
dropped his chair forward, he heard a sound of frying, and "Pshaw,
Martha!" he called. "You're not getting me some fresh bacon?"

"Did you suppose there'd be some left?" she demanded, while she stepped
to and fro at her labors. Her steps ceased and she called, "Well, come in
now, Matthew, if you don't want _every_thing to get cold, like the
pone is."