And he'd begun to fill out some, but--" Sheridan gave forth another dry chuckle, and, going round the table to her, patted her upon the shoulder with his left hand, his right being still heavily bandaged, though he no longer wore a sling.

"That's the way it is with you, mamma--got to take your frettin' out one way if you don't another!" "No.

He don't look well.

It ain't exactly the way he looked when he begun to get sick that time, but he kind o' seems to be losin', some way." "Yes, he may 'a' lost something," said Sheridan.

"I expect he's lost a whole lot o' foolishness besides his God-forsaken notions about writin' poetry and--" "No," his wife persisted.