A Hazard of New Fortunes, Part Third

ne's, and the giggling, which was Mela's, were intershot with the heavier tones of a man's voice; and Dryfoos lay awhile on the leathern lounge in his

re?" he asked, witho

b," his wife answered. "I reckon it

I sno

e 'em wake you, and I was just goin' out to shoo them. T

had snored," said the

e asked, wistfully, "Was you

es

look n

sinking the wells down

children'

ut I reckon we got to have 'em mov

es and under them shoomakes-my, I can see the very place! And I don't believe I'll ever feel at home anywheres else. I woon't know where I am when the trumpet sounds. I have to think before I can tell where the east

drawing-room, and then the soun

ery, and I'm goin' to have a monument, with two lambs on it-like the one you always liked so much. It ain't t

n find me, wherever I am. But I always did want to lay just there. You mind how we used to go out and set the

ber, 'Li

g, insolent, mocking, salient; and then Christine's attempted t

ht. It won't be a great while, now, anyway. Jacob, I don't believe

th the weather. It's coming spring, and you feel it; but the doctor

ce we left Moffitt, and I didn't feel any too well there, even. It's a very strange thing, Jac

" said Dryfoos. "We got to give

ht to bear the yoke in t

at Coonrod wou

curity stretched the glitter of the deep drawing-room. His feet, in their broad; flat slippers, made no sound on the dense carpet, and he came unseen upon the little group there near the piano. Mela perched upon the stool with her back to the keys, a

seemed a proper, attention from him if he was courting her. But here, in such a house as this, with the daughter of a man who had made as much money as he had, he did not know but it was a liberty. He felt the angry doubt of it which beset him in regard to so many experiences of his changed lif

h a nonchalant nod to the young man, came

girl, blushing in he

eaton is learnun' he

xpanse of his broad, white shirt-front. He gave back as nonchalant a nod as he had got, and, without further greeting to Dryfoos, he s

learn," said the girl, wit

ou can," s

y, half suspiciously, "And is the banjo the fashion, now?" He remembered it as the emblem of low-d

er for all. "Everybody plays it. Mr. Beato

o, then," said Dryfoos. "A ba

chords?" and as Mela wheeled about and beat the keys he took the banjo from Christine and sat down with it. "This way!" He strummed it, and murmured t

" Dryfoos demanded, tr

over what Beaton proposed. Then Mela said, absently, "Oh, she had to go out to see o

would have liked to discharge him from the art department of 'Every Other Week' at once. But he was aware of not having treated Beaton with much ceremony, and if the young man

s and piles of money. I wisht to gracious we was back on the farm this minute. I wisht you had held out ag'inst the childern about sellin' it; 'twou

omplained to his wife on the basis of mere affectional habit, which in married life often survives the sense of intellectual equality. He did not expect her to reason with him, but there was help in her listening, and though she could only soothe his fretfulnes

to please you. But he give up a good deal when he give

He had the impudence to tell me this afternoon that he would like to be a priest;

ood amongst the poor folks over there. He says we ain't got any idea how folks lives in them tenement houses, hundreds of 'em in one house, and whole families in a room; and it burns in his heart to help 'em like them Fathe

, and it's a matter of business with them, like any other. But what I'm talking about now is Coonrod. I don't object to his doin' all the charity

to give to them poor folks. You got to give your time and your knowledge and your love-I don't

And he'd better give himself to us a little-to his old father and mother. And his sisters. What's

'em?" asked the old woman. "

se he is! And who's

he men in Coonrod's off

What's he doing round here?

ely's talk, she's about

like him

t got any manners. Who brought him here? H

im, I believe," said t

el, I should like to know? He brought her, too.

git along without her, Jacob; she seems to know just what to do, and the girls would be

aton, and he brought that Boston fellow! I guess I give him a dose, though; and I'll learn Fulkerson that he can't have everything his own way. I don't want anybody to help me spend my money. I made it, an

all fur? I don't see as we're better off, any, for all the money. It's just as much care

y more to go back to. The fields is full of gas-wells and oil-wells an

sped the old w

pours in. But I feel like I was tied hand and foot. I don't know which way to move; I don't know what's best to do about anything. The money don't seem to buy anything but more and more care and trouble. We got a big house that we ain't at home in; and we got a lot of hire

d his wife. "Well