Now the fact was, and she knew it, that Marann Fluker had never before, not since she was born, addressed that boy as Mister.

The visitor’s face reddened and reddened.

“No,” he faltered in answer; “no—­no—­ma’am, I should say.  I—­I don’t know where Mr. Pike’s gone.”

Then he looked around for his hat, discovered it in time, took it into his hands, turned it around two or three times, then, bidding good-bye without shaking hands, took himself off.

Mrs. Fluker liked all the Marchmans, and she was troubled somewhat when she heard of the quickness and manner of Sim’s departure; for he had been fully expected by her to stay to dinner.

“Say he didn’t even shake hands, Marann?  What for?  What you do to him?”

“Not one blessed thing, ma; only he wanted to know why I wasn’t gladder to see him.”  Then Marann looked indignant.

“Say them words, Marann?”

“No, but he hinted ’em.”

“What did you say then?”

“I just asked, a-meaning nothing in the wide world, ma—­I asked him if he knew where Mr. Pike had gone.”

“And that were answer enough to hurt his feelin’s.  What you want to know where Matt Pike’s gone for, Marann?”

“I didn’t care about knowing, ma, but I didn’t like the way Sim talked.”

“Look here, Marann.  Look straight at me.  You’ll be mighty fur off your feet if you let Matt Pike put things in your head that hain’t no business a-bein’ there, and special if you find yourself a-wantin’ to know where he’s a-perambulatin’ in his everlastin’ meanderin’s.  Not a cent has he paid for his board, and which your pa say he have a’ understandin’ with him about allowin’ for his absentees, which is all right enough, but which it’s now goin’ on to three mont’s, and what is comin’ to us I need and I want.  He ought, your pa ought to let me bargain with Matt Pike, because he know he don’t understan’ figgers like Matt Pike.  He don’t know exactly what the bargain were; for I’ve asked him, and he always begins with a multiplyin’ of words and never answers me.”

On his next return from his travels Mr. Pike noticed a coldness in Mrs. Fluker’s manner, and this enhanced his praise of the house.  The last week of the third month came.  Mr. Pike was often noticed, before and after meals, standing at the desk in the hotel office (called in those times the bar-room) engaged in making calculations.  The day before the contract expired Mrs. Fluker, who had not indulged herself with a single holiday since they had been in town, left Marann in charge of the house, and rode forth, spending part of the day with Mrs. Marchman, Sim’s mother.  All were glad to see her, of course, and she returned smartly, freshened by the visit.  That night she had a talk with Marann, and oh, how Marann did cry!

The very last day came.  Like insurance policies, the contract was to expire at a certain hour.  Sim Marchman came just before dinner, to which he was sent for by Mrs. Fluker, who had seen him as he rode into town.