"Mother, you shouldn't have come today over the bad roads," said Joe with affectionate reproof.
"Lands, what's a little mud!" said she, putting down a small bundle which she bore. "Well, it'll be froze up by tomorrow, I reckon, it's turnin' sharp and cold."
She looked at Joe anxiously, every shadow in his worn face carving its counterpart in her heart. There was no smile of gladness on her lips, for smiles had been so long apart from her life that the nerves which commanded them had grown stiff and hard.
"Yes," said Joe, taking up her last words, "winter will be here in a little while now. I'll be out then, Mother, to lay in wood for you. It won't be long now."
"Lord bless you, son!" said she, the words catching in her throat, tears rising to her eyes and standing so heavy that she must wipe them away.
"It will all be settled next week," Joe told her confidently.
"I hope they won't put it off no more," said she wearily.
"No; Hammer says they're sure to go ahead this time."
"Ollie drove over yesterday evening and brought your things from Isom's," said she, lifting the bundle from the floor, forcing it to him between the bars. "I brought you a couple of clean shirts, for I knew you'd want one for tomorrow."
"Yes, Mother, I'm glad you brought them," said Joe.
"Ollie, she said she never would make you put in the rest of your time there if she had anything to say about it. But she said if Judge Little got them letters of administration he was after she expected he'd try to hold us to it, from what he said."
"And Ollie said if she ever did come into Isom's property she'd make us a deed to our place."
Mrs. Newbolt's face bore a little gleam of hope when she told him this. Joe looked at her kindly.
"She could afford to, Mother," said he, "it was paid for in interest on that loan to Isom."
"But Isom, he never would 'a' give in to that," said she. "Your pap he paid twelve per cent interest on that loan for sixteen years."
There was nothing for her to sit on in the corridor; she stood holding to the bars to take some of the weight from her tired feet.
"I don't want to hurry you off, Mother," said Joe, "but I hate to see you standing there all tired out. If the sheriff was a gentleman he'd fetch you a chair. I don't suppose there'd be any use in asking him."