"Them folks as was here," he said, "they'd gone. They started the next mornin' arter they was here. They live up North somewhars, an' they've went thar."

After he had gone in, Louisiana sat still for a little while. The moon was rising and she watched it until it climbed above the tree-tops and shone bright and clear. Then one desperate little sob broke from her--only one, for she choked the next in its birth, and got up and turned toward the house and the room in which the kerosene lamp burned on the supper table.

"I'll go an' talk to him," she said. "He likes to have me with him, and it will be better than sitting here."

She went in and sat near him, resting her elbows upon the table and her chin on her hands, and tried to begin to talk. But it was not very easy. She found that she had a tendency to fall back in long silent pauses, in which she simply looked at him with sad, tender eyes.

"I stopped at Casey's as I came on," he said, at last. "Thet thar was one thing as made me late. Thar's--thar's somethin' I hed on my mind fur him to do fur me."

"For Casey to do?" she said.

He poured his coffee into his saucer and answered with a heavy effort at speaking unconcernedly.

"I'm agoin' to hev him fix the house," he said.

She was going to ask him what he meant to have done, but he did not give her time.

"Ianthy an' me," he said, "we'd useder say we'd do it sometime, an' I'm agoin' to do it now. The rooms, now, they're low--whar they're not to say small, they're low an'--an' old-timey. Thar aint no style to 'em.

Them rooms to the Springs, now, they've got style to 'em. An' rooms kin be altered easy enough."

He drank his coffee slowly, set his saucer down and went on with the same serious air of having broached an ordinary subject.

"Goin' to the Springs has sorter started me off," he said. "Seein'

things diff'rent does start a man off. Casey an' his men'll be here Monday."

"It seems so--sudden," Louisiana said. She gave a slow, wondering glance at the old smoke-stained room. "I can hardly fancy it looking any other way than this. It wont be the same place at all."

He glanced around, too, with a start. His glance was hurried and nervous.

"Why, no," he said, "it wont, but--it'll be stylisher. It'll be kinder onfamil'ar at first, but I dessay we shall get used to it--an' it'll be stylisher. An' style--whar thar's young folks, thet's what's wanted--style."

She was so puzzled by his manner that she sat regarding him with wonder. But he went on talking steadily about his plans until the meal was over. He talked of them when they went back to the porch together and sat in the moonlight. He scarcely gave her an opportunity to speak. Once or twice the idea vaguely occurred to her that for some reason he did not want her to talk. It was a relief to her only to be called upon to listen, but still she was puzzled.

"When we git fixed up," he said, "ye kin hev your friends yere. Thar's them folks, now, as was yere the other day from the Springs--when we're fixed up ye mought invite 'em--next summer, fur instants. Like as not I shall be away myself an'--ye'd hev room a plenty. Ye wouldn't need me, ye see. An', Lord! how it'd serprise 'em to come an' find ye all fixed."

"I should never ask them," she cried, impetuously. "And--they wouldn't come if I did."

"Mebbe they would," he responded, gravely, "if ye was fixed up."

"I don't want them," she said, pa.s.sionately. "Let them keep their place. I don't want them."

"Don't ye," he said, in his quiet voice. "Don't ye, Louisianny?"

And he seemed to sink into a reverie and did not speak again for quite a long time.

CHAPTER XI.

A RUSTY NAIL.

On Monday Casey and his men came. Louisiana and her father were at breakfast when they struck their first blow at the end of the house which was to be renovated first.

The old man, hearing it, started violently--so violently that he almost upset the coffee at his elbow.

He laughed a tremulous sort of laugh.

"Why, I'm narvous!" he said. "Now, jest to think o' me a-bein'

narvous!"

"I suppose," said Louisiana, "I am nervous as well. It made me start too. It had such a strange sound."

"Waal, now," he answered, "come to think on it, it hed--sorter. Seems like it wasn't sca'cely nat'ral. P'r'aps that's it."

Neither of them ate much breakfast, and when the meal was over they went out together to look at the workmen. They were very busy tearing off weather-boarding and wrenching out nails. Louisiana watched them with regretful eyes. In secret she was wishing that the low ceilings and painted walls might remain as they were. She had known them so long.

"I am afraid he is doing it to please me," she thought. "He does not believe me when I say I don't want it altered. He would never have had it done for himself."

Her father had seated himself on a pile of plank. He was rubbing his crossed leg as usual, but his hand trembled slightly.

"I druv them nails in myself," he said. "Ianthy wasn't but nineteen.

She'd set yere an' watch me. It was two or three months arter we was married. She was mighty proud on it when it was all done. Little Tom he was born in thet thar room. The rest on 'em was born in the front room, 'n' they all died thar. Ianthy she died thar. I'd useder think I should----"

He stopped and glanced suddenly at Louisiana. He pulled himself up and smiled.

"Ye aint in the notion o' hevin' the cupoly," he said. "We kin hev it as soon as not--'n' seems ter me thar's a heap o' style to 'em."

"Anything that pleases you will please me, father," she said.

He gave her a mild, cheerful look.

"Ye don't take much int'russ in it yet, do ye?" he said. "But ye will when it gits along kinder. Lord! ye'll be as impatient as Ianthy an'

me war when it gits along."

She tried to think she would, but without very much success. She lingered about for a while and at last went to her own room at the other end of the house and shut herself in.

Her trunk had been carried upstairs and set in its old place behind the door. She opened it and began to drag out the dresses and other adornments she had taken with her to the Springs. There was the blue muslin. She threw it on the floor and dropped beside it, half sitting, half kneeling. She laughed quite savagely.

"I thought it was very nice when I made it," she said. "I wonder how _she_ would like to wear it?" She pulled out one thing after another until the floor around her was strewn. Then she got up and left them, and ran to the bed and threw herself into a chair beside it, hiding her face in the pillow.

"Oh, how dull it is, and how lonely!" she said. "What shall I do?

What shall I do?"

And while she sobbed she heard the blows upon the boards below.

Before she went down-stairs she replaced the things she had taken from the trunk. She packed them away neatly, and, having done it, turned the key upon them.