"He did! The skunk! An' him smokin' half a dozen ten-cent cigars every day. It's a wonder she never squealed on him."
"Oh, that's jist like her. She wouldn't have told me yesterday if I hadn't pumped it out of her. She's a game one, all right. But I do pity the poor little kids. I don't know what's to become of them."
"How many are there?"
"Five, I guess. The little chap who died was the youngest, an' he was only three."
"My, my!" Abner sighed, while an expression of sincere sympathy came into his eyes. "What de ye s'pose kin be done fer 'em?"
"Don't know, unless we kin git them into that Orphan Home."
"What Home?" Abner asked in surprise.
"Why, you ought to know," and Zeb looked up from his work. "You gave a thousand dollars to it, didn't ye?"
"A thousand be hanged! I didn't give a red cent."
"So I thought. Jist hold these boards together, will ye?"