always seem to be around, to get talked about, when
anything happens."

He saw that she was irritable, in a mood for complaint,
and he rose. "You mean Mrs. Caley talks
wherever I am," he corrected. He left the porch
and walked over the road to the village. The store,
he knew, would be closed; but Valentine Simmons,
an indefatigable church worker, almost invariably
after the service pleasantly passed the remainder of
Sunday in the contemplation and balancing of his
long and satisfactory accounts and assets.

He was, as Gordon had anticipated, in the enclosed
office bent over his ledgers. The door to the
store was unlocked. Simmons rose, and briefly acknowledged
Gordon's presence.

"I was sorry Buckley got hurt," the latter opened;
"it wasn't any direct fault of mine. We were having
words. I don't deny but that it might have gone
further with us, but some one else stepped in."

"So I was informed. Buckley will probably live
...that is all the Stenton doctor will say; a piece
of his skull has been removed. I am not prepared
to discuss it right now... painful to me."

"Certainly. But I didn't come to discuss that.
I want to talk to you about the timber -- those options
of Lettice's."

"She doesn't agree to the deal?" Simmons queried
sharply.

[[217]]

p216 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p217w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p218

v?