He spent money on me, an' he give me money to spend--that had never had a cent to call my own--_an'_, Mis' Cullom, he took me by the hand, an' he talked to me, an' he gin me the fust notion 't I'd ever had that mebbe I wa'n't only the scum o' the earth, as I'd ben teached to believe.

I told ye that that day was the turnin' point of my life.

Wa'al, it wa'n't the lickin' I got, though that had somethin' to do with it, but I'd never have had the spunk to run away's I did if it hadn't ben for the heartenin' Billy P.gin me, an' never knowed it, an' never knowed it," he repeated mournfully.

"I alwus allowed to pay some o' that debt back to him, but seein' 's I can't do that, Mis' Cullom, I'm glad an' thankful to pay it to his widdo'." "Mebbe he knows, Dave," said Mrs.Cullom softly.
"Mebbe he does," assented David in a low voice.
Neither spoke for a time, and then the widow said: "David, I can't thank ye 's I ought ter--I don't know how--but I'll pray for ye night an' mornin' 's long 's I got breath.

An', Dave," she added humbly, "I want to take back what I said about the Lord's providin'." She sat a moment, lost in her thoughts, and then exclaimed, "Oh, it don't seem 's if I c'd wait to write to Charley!" "I've wrote to Charley," said David, "an' told him to sell out there an' come home, an' to draw on me fer any balance he needed to move him.