Her voice, too, was like Lettice's -- sweet with
the premonition of the querulous note that, Rutherford
Berry had once said, distinguished all good
women.

A sudden intuition directed his gaze upon the
Courthouse lawn.

"They're selling you out," he hazarded, "for
debt."

She nodded, with trembling lips. "Cannon is,"
she specified.

Cannon was the storekeeper for whom his brother-in-law
clerked. He thought again, how monotonous,
how everlastingly alike, life was. "You just
let the amount run on and on," he continued; "you
got this and that. Then, suddenly, Cannon wanted
his money."

Her eyes opened widely at his prescience. "But
there was sickness too," she added; "the baby died."

"Ah," Gordon said curtly. The lines in his worn
face deepened, his mouth was inscrutable.

"If it hadn't been for that," she confided, "we
could have got through. Everything had started
fine. Alexander's father had left him the place:
there isn't a better in the Bottom. Alexander says
Mr. Cannon has always wanted it. Now...
now..." her blue gaze blurred with slow tears.

Her similarity to Lettice grew still more apparent --
she presented the same order, her white shirt-

[[286]]

p285 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p286w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p287

v?