preparations for the cold mid-day meal, a daring thought assailed her.
Phoebe might come to-day, and if the doctor also dropped in, she would
ask them both to dinner. There was no reason for inviting him alone;
besides, it was happier to sit by, leaving him to some one else. Then
the two would talk, and she, with no responsibility, could listen and
look, and hug her secret joy.

"I ain't a-goin' to meetin' to-day!" came Nance Pete's voice from the
door. She stood there, smoking prosperously, and took out her pipe,
with a jaunty motion, at the words. "I stopped at Kelup Rivers', on the
way over, an' they gi'n me a good breakfast, an' last week, that young
doctor gi'n me a whole paper o' fine-cut. I ain't a-goin' to meetin'!
I'm goin' to se' down under the old elm, an' have a real good smoke."

"O Nancy!" Dorcas had no dreams so happy that such an avalanche could
not sweep them aside. "Now, do! Why, you don't want me to think you go
to church just because I save you some breakfast!"

Nance turned away, and put up her chin to watch a wreath of smoke.

"I dunno why I don't," said she. "The world's nothin' but buy an' sell.
You know it, an' I know it!' 'Tain't no use coverin' on't up. You heerd
the news? That old fool of a Sim Barker's dead. The doctor, sut up all
night with him, an' I guess now he's layin' on him out. I wouldn't ha'
done it! I'd ha' wropped him up in his old coat, an' glad to git rid on
him! Well, he won't cheat ye out o' no more five-cent pieces, to
squander in terbacker. You might save 'em up for me, now he's done
for!" Nance went stalking away to the gate, flaunting a visible air of
fine, free enjoyment, the product of tobacco and a bright morning.
Dorcas watched her, annoyed, and yet quite helpless; she was outwitted,