“But what’d he say about his health?” Mrs. Sheridan demanded, impatiently, as George placed a cup of coffee before her husband.  Sheridan helped himself to cream and sugar, and began to sip the coffee.

“I’m comin’ to that,” he returned, placidly.  “See how easy I manage this cup with my left hand, mamma?”

“You been doin’ that all winter.  What did—­”

“It’s wonderful,” he interrupted, admiringly, “what a fellow can do with his left hand.  I can sign my name with mine now, well’s I ever could with my right.  It came a little hard at first, but now, honest, I believe I rather sign with my left.  That’s all I ever have to write, anyway—­just the signature.  Rest’s all dictatin’.”  He blew across the top of the cup unctuously.  “Good coffee, mamma!  Well, about Bibbs.  Ole Gurney says he believes if Bibbs could somehow get back to the state o’ mind he was in about the machine-shop—­that is, if he could some way get to feelin’ about business the way he felt about the shop—­not the poetry and writin’ part, but—­” He paused, supplementing his remarks with a motion of his head toward the old house next door.  “He says Bibbs is older and harder’n what he was when he broke down that time, and besides, he ain’t the kind o’ dreamy way he was then—­and I should say he ain’t!  I’d like ’em to show me anybody his age that’s any wider awake!  But he says Bibbs’s health never need bother us again if—­”

Mrs. Sheridan shook her head.  “I don’t see any help that way.  You know yourself she wouldn’t have Jim.”

“Who’s talkin’ about her havin’ anybody?  But, my Lord! she might let him look at her!  She needn’t ‘a’ got so mad, just because he asked her, that she won’t let him come in the house any more.  He’s a mighty funny boy, and some ways I reckon he’s pretty near as hard to understand as the Bible, but Gurney kind o’ got me in the way o’ thinkin’ that if she’d let him come back and set around with her an evening or two sometimes—­not reg’lar, I don’t mean—­why—­Well, I just thought I’d see what you’d think of it.  There ain’t any way to talk about it to Bibbs himself—­I don’t suppose he’d let you, anyhow—­but I thought maybe you could kind o’ slip over there some day, and sort o’ fix up to have a little talk with her, and kind o’ hint around till you see how the land lays, and ask her—­”

“Me!” Mrs. Sheridan looked both helpless and frightened.  “No.”  She shook her head decidedly.  “It wouldn’t do any good.”

“You won’t try it?”

“I won’t risk her turnin’ me out o’ the house.  Some way, that’s what I believe she did to Sibyl, from what Roscoe said once.  No, I can’t —­and, what’s more, it’d only make things worse.  If people find out you’re runnin’ after ’em they think you’re cheap, and then they won’t do as much for you as if you let ’em alone.  I don’t believe it’s any use, and I couldn’t do it if it was.”