Bill was a half-wit but as strong as an ox; and, once set upon a task, managed it in a way that had given him a secure position in the community.  He carried mail into the remotest districts—­when there was any to carry.  He “toted” heavy loads and gathered gossip and spilled it liberally.  He was impersonal, ignorant, and illiterate, but he did his poor best and grovelled at the feet of any one who showed him the least affection.  He was horribly afraid of Lois Ann for no reason that he could have given; he was afraid of her eyes—­her thin, claw-like hands.  As he now delivered the bundles he had for her he accepted the food she gave and then darted away to eat it in comfort beyond the reach of those glances he dreaded.

And there Nella-Rose sought him and sat beside him with a choice morsel she had saved from her finer fare.

“Trim,” she whispered when he was about to start, “here is a letter—­Miss Lois Ann wants you to mail.”

The bright eyes looked yearningly into the dull, hopeless face.

“I—­hate the ole ’un!” confided Bill.

“But yo’ don’t hate me, Bill?”

“No.”

“Well, then, do it for me, but don’t tell a living soul that you saw me.  See, Bill, I have a whole dollar—­I earned it by berry-picking.  Pay for the letter and then keep the rest.  And if you ever see Marg, and she asks about me—­and whether you’ve seen me—­tell her” (and here Nella-Rose’s white teeth gleamed in the mischievous smile), “tell her you saw me walking in the Hollow with Burke Lawson!”

The dull fellow shook with foolish laughter.  “I sho’ will!” he said, and then tucked the letter and dollar bill in the breast of his shirt.  “And now, lil’ doney-gal, let me touch yo’ hand,” he pleaded, “this—­er—­way.”  And like a poor frayed, battered knight he pressed his lips to the small, brown hand of the one person who had always been kind to him.

At sunset Bill halted to eat his supper and warm his stiffened body.  He tried to build a fire but the wood was wet and in desperation he took, at last, the papers from inside his thin coat, they had helped to shield him from the cold, and utilized them to start the pine cones.  He rested and feasted and later went his way.  At the post office he searched among his rags for the letter and the money.  Then his face went white as ashes: 

“Gawd a’mighty!” he whimpered.

“What’s wrong?” Merrivale came from behind the counter.

“I done burn my chest protector.  I’ll freeze without the papers.”  Then Bill explained the fire building but, recalling Lois Ann, withheld any further information.

“Here, you fool,” Merrivale said not unkindly, “take all the papers you want.  And take this old coat, too.  And look, lad, in yo’ wandering have yo’ seen Greyson’s lil’ gal?”

Bill looked cunning and drawing close whispered: 

“Her—­and him, I seed ’im, back in the sticks!  Her—­and him!” Then he laughed his foolish laugh.