quizzical and that he was recording on the tablets of his merciless memory the ungraceful abruptness of the other's action and manner.
"How is your stepmother feeling to-day, 'Niram?" I asked.
"Worse."
'Niram came to a full stop with the word. My cousin covered his satirical mouth with his hand.
"Can't the doctor do anything to relieve her?" I asked.
'Niram moved at last from his Indian-like immobility. He looked up under the brim of his felt hat at the skyline of the mountain, shimmering iridescent above us. "He says maybe 'lectricity would help her some. I'm goin' to git her the batteries and things soon's I git the rubber bandages paid for."
There was a long silence. My cousin stood up, yawning, and sauntered away toward the door. "Shall I send Ev'leen Ann out to get the pitcher and glasses?" he asked in an accent which he evidently thought very humorously significant.
The strong face under the felt hat turned white, the jaw muscles set hard, but for all this show of strength there was an instant when the man's eyes looked out with the sick, helpless revelation of pain they might have had when 'Niram was a little boy of ten, a third of his present age, and less than half his present stature. Occasionally it is horrifying to see how a chance shot rings the bell.
"No, no! Never mind!" I said hastily. "I'll take the tray in when I go."
Without salutation or farewell 'Niram Purdon turned and went back to his work.
