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“Her best good?” muttered the old woman.

“Yes, her best good. What are you going to do with her, anyway?The girl is a beauty, and almost a woman grown, although you try to make out that she is a baby. You can’t live forever.”

“The Lord will take care of her,” replied the old woman, and again she turned and faced him, and her expression was that of a prophetess.

“Very well, let Him,” said Barry, easily.”All the same I’m going to have her, and I tell you it is for her best good. Jim Willis saw her this afternoon, and– “

Old Woman Magoun looked at him.”Jim Willis!” she fairly shrieked.

“Well, what of it?”

“One of them Willises!” repeated the old woman, and this time her voice was thick. It seemed almost as if she were stricken with paralysis. She did not enunciate clearly.

The man shrank a little.”Now what is the need of your making such a fuss?” he said.”I will take her, and Isabel will look out for her.”

“Your half-witted sister?” said Old Woman Magoun.

“Yes, my half-witted sister. She knows more than you think.”

“More wickedness.”

“Perhaps. Well, a knowledge of evil is a useful thing. How are you going to avoid evil if you don’t know what it is like?My sister and I wall take care of my daughter.”

The old woman continued to look at the man, but his eyes never fell. Suddenly her gaze grew inconceivably keen. It was as if she saw through all externals.

“I know what it is!” she cried.”You have been playing cards and you lost, and this is the way you will pay him.”

Then the man’s face reddened, and he swore under his breath.

“Oh, my God!” said the old woman; and she really spoke with her eyes aloft as if addressing something outside of them both. Then she turned again to her dish-washing.

The man cast a dogged look at her back.”Well, there is no use talking. I have made up my mind,” said he, “and you know me and what that means. I am going to have the girl.”

“When?” said the old woman, without turning around.

“Well, I am willing to give you a week. Put her clothes in good order before she comes.”

The old woman made no reply. She continued washing dishes. She even handled them so carefully that they did not rattle.

“You understand,” said Barry.”Have her ready a week from to-day.”

“Yes,” said Old Woman Magoun, “I understand.”

Nelson Barry, going up the mountain road, reflected that Old Woman Magoun had a strong character, that she understood much better than her sex in general the futility of withstanding the inevitable.

“Well,” he said to Jim Willis when he reached home, “the old woman did not make such a fuss as I expected.”

“Are you going to have the girl?”

“Yes; a week from to-day. Look here, Jim; you’ve got to stick to your promise.”

“All right,” said Willis.”Go you one better.”

The two were playing at cards in the old parlor, once magnificent, now squalid, of the Barry house. Isabel, the half-witted sister, entered, bringing some glasses on a tray. She had learned with her feeble intellect some tricks, like a dog. One of them was the mixing of sundry drinks. She set the tray on a little stand near the two men, and watched them with her silly simper.

“Clear out now and go to bed,” her brother said to her, and she obeyed.

Early the next morning Old Woman Magoun went up to Lily’s little sleeping-chamber, and watched her a second as she lay asleep, with her yellow locks spread over the pillow. Then she spoke.”Lily,” said she–”Lily, wake up. I am going to Greenham across the new bridge, and you can go with me.”