"I reckon you will do nothin' like that! Ole Miss will be good for mos' the mornin' an' I'se goin' to patch up the libry. If ole Miss takes a fancy to that-er-room, she goin' to have what she wants! If she wants to pick 'long o' the hearthstone, she is goin' to do that; I'll loosen it up."
"I will watch her to-night, then!" Cynthia said, "and I'll be back right early this evening, Sally."
Just as Cynthia reached The Way, she met Martin Morley.
"Good morning, lil' Miss Cyn," he greeted; "seems like you be part of this yere pretty day."
"Good morning, Mr. Morley. You look right smart and dandified."
Morley was neatly and decently attired and his calm, clear eyes were steady and full of purpose. The "charm" had held good with him, and ever since the well-fought battle in the little doctor's lean-to chamber, he had gradually worked his way back to self-respect and content. Mary and Molly had drifted from his life so effectually that he had accepted the inevitable and never mentioned their names.
"Where you going, Mr. Morley?"
"I am going down to The Forge," Martin answered. "They-all say the young manager for that company what's going to build a factory up higher has come, and I'm going to try and get a job."
"Do you believe there is going to be a factory, Mr. Morley? Do you believe Smith Crothers would let any one have a factory so near his?"
"They-all do say, Miss Cynthia, that that-er company what sends this young man, is powerful rich and upperty. They-all do say that-er company ain't so much as consulted with Smith Crothers."