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WAIFS AND STRAYS

spinning the rowels and singing alittle song. Marthy turned her head lazily against the back of the chair and considered the arrivals with emotionless eyes. She held a book in her lap with her finger holding the place.

Sam shook himself queerly, like a man coming out of a dream, and slowly dismounted. He moistened his dry lips.

“I see you are still a-settin’,” he said, “a-readin’ of them billy-by-dam yaller-back novils.”

Sam had travelled round the circle and was himself again.

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