“’Tisn’t anything much,” he said, hastily.  “I—­I’m real glad for you to have it.”

He was about to put it on top of the cookstove, in which there was a roaring fire, but Mrs. Armstrong, by a startled exclamation and a frantic rush, prevented his doing so.  So he put it on the table instead.  Barbara thanked him profusely.  She was overjoyed; there were no comparisons with hippopotami in her mind.  Jed seemed pleased at her appreciation, but he did not smile.  Instead he sighed.

“I—­I just thought I wanted her to have it, ma’am,” he said, turning to Mrs. Armstrong. “‘Twould keep her from—­from forgettin’ me altogether, maybe. . . .  Not that there’s any real reason why she should remember me, of course,” he added.

Barbara was hurt and indignant.

“Of course I shan’t forget you, Mr. Winslow,” she declared.  “Neither will Petunia.  And neither will Mamma, I know.  She feels awful bad because you don’t want us to live here any longer, and—­”

“Hush, Babbie, hush!” commanded her mother.  Barbara hushed, but she had said enough.  Jed turned a wondering face in their direction.  He stared without speaking.

Mrs. Armstrong felt that some one must say something.

“You mustn’t mind what the child says, Mr. Winslow,” she explained, hurriedly.  “Of course I realize perfectly that this house is yours and you certainly have the right to do what you please with your own.  And I have known all the time that we were here merely on trial.”

Jed lifted a big hand.

“Er—­er—­just a minute, ma’am, please,” he begged.  “I—­I guess my wooden head is beginnin’ to splinter or somethin’.  Please answer me just this—­if—­if you’d just as soon:  Why are you movin’ back to Luretta’s?”

It was her turn to look wonderingly at him.  “Why, Mr. Winslow,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation, “isn’t that rather an unnecessary question?  When Babbie and I came here it was with the understanding that we were to be on trial for a month.  We had gone into no details at all, except that the rent for this one month should be forty dollars.  You were, as I understood it, to consider the question of our staying and, if you liked us and liked the idea of renting the house at all, you were to come to me and discuss the matter.  The month is up and you haven’t said a word on the subject.  And, knowing what your feelings had been, I of course realized that you did not wish us to remain, and so, of course, we are going.  I am sorry, very sorry.  Babbie and I love this little house, and we wish you might have cared to have us stay in it, but—­”

“Hold on! hold on!” Jed was, for him, almost energetic.  “Mrs. Armstrong, ma’am, do you mean to tell me you’re goin’ back to Luretta Smalley’s because you think I don’t want you to stay?  Is that it, honest truth?”

“Why, of course, it is.  What else?”

“And—­and ’tain’t because you can’t stand me any longer, same as Mother used to say?”