I told her how things were pointin', and she lent me a hoss, and I jess rounded on Doctor Green at Mountain Jim's, and had him back here afore sun-up! And then I heard she wilted,--regularly played out, you see,--for she had it all along wuss than the lot, and never let on or whimpered!" "It was well you persisted in seeing her that night," I said, watching the rapt expression of his face.

He looked up quickly, became conscious of my scrutiny, and dropped his eyes again, smiled feebly, and drawing a circle in the ashes with the broken pipe-stem, said:-- "But SHE didn't like it, though." I suggested, a little warmly, that if she allowed her father to leave her alone at night with delicate children, she had no right to choose WHO should assist her in an emergency.

It struck me afterwards that this was not very complimentary to him, and I added hastily that I wondered if she expected some young lady to be passing along the trail at midnight! But this reminded me of Johnson's style of argument, and I stopped.
"Yes," he said meekly, "and ef she didn't keer enough for herself and her brothers and sisters, she orter remember them Beazeley chillern." "Beazeley children ?" I repeated wonderingly.
"Yes; them two little ones, the size of Mirandy; they're Beazeley's." "Who is Beazeley, and what are his children doing here ?" "Beazeley up and died at the mill, and she bedevilled her father to let her take his two young 'uns here." "You don't mean to say that with her other work she's taking care of other people's children too ?" "Yes, and eddicatin' them." "Educating them ?" "Yes; teachin' them to read and write and do sums.

One of our loggers ketched her at it when she was keepin' tally." We were both silent for some moments.
"I suppose you know Johnson ?" I said finally.
"Not much." "But you call here at other times than when you're helping her ?" "Never been in the house before." He looked slowly around him as he spoke, raising his eyes to the bare rafters above, and drawing a few long breaths, as if he were inhaling the aura of some unseen presence.

He appeared so perfectly gratified and contented, and I was so impressed with this humble and silent absorption of the sacred interior, that I felt vaguely conscious that any interruption of it was a profanation, and I sat still, gazing at the dying fire.