“When you get a husband, Rose Mary, I hope he’ll hump his shoulders over a plow-line the number of hours allotted for a man’s work and then fly poetry kites off times and only when the wind is right,” answered Uncle Tucker with a quizzical smile in his big eyes and a quirk at the corner of his mouth.

“But I’m going always to admire the kites anyway, even if they don’t fly,” answered Rose Mary with the teasing lift of her long lashes up at him.  “Maybe just a woman’s puff might start a man’s kite sky high that couldn’t get off right without it.  You can’t tell.”

“Yes, child,” answered Uncle Tucker as he looked into the dark eyes level with his own with a sudden tenderness, “and you never fail to start off all kites in your neighborhood.  When I took you as a bundle of nothing outen Brother John’s arms nearly thirty years ago this spring jest a perky encouraging little smile in your blue eyes started my kite that was a-trailing weary like, and it’s sailed mostly by your wind ever since—­especially these last few years.  Don’t let the breeze give out on me yet, child.”

“It never will, old sweetie,” answered Rose Mary as she took Uncle Tucker’s lean old hand in hers and rubbed her cheek against the sleeve of his rough farm coat.  “Is the interest of the mortgage ready for this quarter?” she asked quietly in almost a whisper, as if afraid to disturb some listening ear with a private matter.

“It lacks more than a hundred,” answered Uncle Tucker in just as quiet a voice, in which a note of pain sounded plainly.  “And this is not the first time I have fallen behind with Newsome, either.  The repairs on the plows and the food chopper for the barn have cost a good deal, and the coal bill was large this winter.  Sometimes, Rose Mary, I—­I am afraid to look forward to the end.  Maybe if I was younger it would be different and I could pay the debt, but I am afraid—­if it wasn’t for your aunts, looks like you and I could let it go and make our way somewhere out in the world beyond the Ridge, but they are older than us and we must keep their home as long as we can for ’em.  Maybe in a few years—­Newsome won’t press me, I’m mighty sure.  Do you think you can help me hold on for ’em?  I don’t matter.”

“We’ll never let it go, Uncle Tuck, never!” answered Rose Mary passionately as she pressed her cheek closer to his arm.  “I don’t know why I know, but we are going to have it as long as they—­and you, you need it—­and I’m going to die here myself,” she added with a laughing sob as she shook two tears out of her lashes and looked up at him with adorning stars in her eyes.

“It’s as He wills, daughter,” answered Uncle Tucker quietly as he laid a tender hand on the dark braids resting against his shoulder.  “It isn’t wrong for us to go on keeping it if we can jest pay the interest to our friend—­pay it to the day.  That is the only thing that troubles me.  We must not fall behind and—­”