. . . Um-hm."
She made no comment on this confession. Jed, after waiting an
instant for her to speak, ventured a reminder.
"Don't mind my talkin' foolishness," he said, apologetically. "I'm
feelin' a little more like myself than I have for--for a week or
so, and when I feel that way I'm bound to be foolish. Just gettin'
back to nature, as the magazine folks tell about, I cal'late 'tis."
She leaned forward and laid a hand on his sleeve.
"Don't!" she begged. "Don't talk about yourself in that way, Jed.
When I think what a friend you have been to me and mine I--I can't
bear to hear you say such things. I have never thanked you for
what you did to save my brother when you thought he had gone wrong
again. I can't thank you now--I can't."
Her voice broke. Jed twisted in his seat.
"Now--now, Ruth," he pleaded, "do let's forget that. I've made a
fool of myself a good many times in my life--more gettin' back to
nature, you see--but I hope I never made myself out quite such a
blitherin' numbskull as I did that time. Don't talk about it,
don't. I ain't exactly what you'd call proud of it."
"But I am. And so is Charlie. But I won't talk of it if you
prefer I shouldn't. . . . Jed--" she hesitated, faltered, and then
began again: "Jed," she said, "I told you when I came in that I had
something to tell you.
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