dropping toward the earth, marking a path for somebody's soul. The fire dwindled and almost went out for lack of a stick of wood, but Mary sat on the door-step, alone, and an aching uneasiness had her flesh trembling and all her bones weak.
One by one the houses grew dark and silent, tears rolled out of her eyes and fell in her lap. July had forgotten her.
The dawn brought him. A puff of cool air pushed in with him when he opened the door. Mary sniffed it softly for a faint scent of Cinder's perfume came with it on July's clothes.
"You needn' walk so easy, I'm wake, July. I ain' shut my eyes all night long. I'm sick as I only can be. Worry-ation kills me. Whyn' you tell me you was gwine off an' not a-comin home?"
July gave her no answer, but with his jawe locked he sank into a chair and began putting on his boots to go to his work in the swamp. Mary could not tell if he heard her or not for he made no sign that he did. Then anger stirred her.
"Whyn' you answer me, July? Whe you been? What de matter all you?"
Then he straightened up. "Nuttin' ain' de matter all me. I been in de woods shootin' a
