“Yes,” continued Mrs. Wiggs, “we was—­up to the time of the fire.  Did I ever tell you ’bout how Jim brought our other hoss to town?”

Miss Hazy had heard the story a number of times, but she knew the duties of a hostess.

“It was this a-way,” went on Mrs. Wiggs, drawing her chair closer to the fire, and preparing for a good, long talk.  “You see, me an’ the childern was comin’ on the steam-car train, but ther’ wasn’t no way to git the hoss here, ‘ceptin’ fer somebody to ride him.  Course Jim said he’d do it.  Poor Jim, always ready to do the hard part!” She paused to wipe her eyes on her apron, and Miss Hazy wept in sympathy.

“Never min’, Miss Wiggs; don’t cry.  Go on an’ tell me what you done next.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Wiggs, swallowing the lump in her throat, “Jim said he’d go.  He never had been to the city, an’ he was jes’ a little shaver, but I knowed I could trust him.”

“I don’t see how you could stand to risk it!” exclaimed Miss Hazy.

“Oh, I reckon whatever you got to do, you kin do.  I didn’t see no other way; so one mornin’ I put a old fo-patch quilt over the hoss, tied a bucket of oats on behin’ it an’ fixed some vittles fer Jim, an’ started ’em off.  It was a forty-mile ride to the city, so I calkerlated to start Jim so’s he’d git to Dr. White’s ’bout nightfall.”

“Dr. White was your old doctor, wasn’t he?” prompted Miss Hazy.

“Yes’m.  He used to tend Mr. Wiggs before we moved over into Bullitt County.  You know Mr. Wiggs was a widow man when I married him.  He had head trouble.  Looked like all his inflictions gethered together in that head of hisn.  He uster go into reg’lar transoms!”

Miss Hazy was awe-struck, but more dreadful revelations were to follow.

“I guess you knew I killed him,” continued Mrs. Wiggs, calmly.  “The doctor an’ ever’body said so.  He was jes’ gitten over typhoid, an’ I give him pork an’ beans.  He was a wonderful man!  Kept his senses plumb to the end.  I remember his very las’ words.  I was settin’ by him, waitin’ fer the doctor to git there, an’ I kep’ saying ’Oh, Mr. Wiggs!  You don’t think you are dying do you?’ an’ he answered up jes’ as natural an’ fretful-like, ‘Good lan’, Nancy!  How do I know?  I ain’t never died before.’  An’ them was the very las’ words he ever spoke.”

“Was he a church member, Miss Wiggs?” inquired Miss Hazy.

“Well, no, not exactly,” admitted Mrs. Wiggs, reluctantly.  “But he was what you might say a well-wisher.  But, as I was tellin’ you, Dr. White was a old friend, an’ I pinned a note on Jim’s coat tellin’ who he was an’ where he was going an’ knowed the doctor would have a eye on him when he got as fur as Smithville.  As fer the rest of the trip, I wasn’t so certain.  The only person I knowed in the city was Pete Jenkins, an’ if there was one man in the world I didn’t have no use fer, it was Pete.  But when I don’t like folks I try to do somethin’ nice fer ’em.