"Four!" exclaimed Checkers.
"Yes, I 've had four. My first woman spent me out o' house and home, and then run away—I was glad to get shet o' her. The second un I jest nachally could n't live with, she hed sech a pizen-bad temper; and I 've had two others to die on me. I 've worked like a nigger airnin' 'em money fer cloes, and doctor's bills and sich, and not one on 'em but what 'ud claim she wa'n't well treated. The trouble with women is that a man takes and treats 'em so well when he's a-courtin' of 'em, that after they 're married, plain, ordinary, every-day treatment seems like cruelty to 'em."
This was a phase of the woman question which had never before occurred to Checkers; but the weight of suspense at his heart prevented his encouraging Tobe to further reminiscence.
As he drove into the door-yard, Arthur came out of the house, trembling and pale with anger and excitement.
"Hello, Arthur?" called Checkers, cheerily.
"Traitor, hypocrite," was the answer; "how can you look me in the face?"
"Oh, get used to it."
"Ha! you make a jest of it, do you?"
"Of what, your face?"
Arthur grew livid. "It's easy and safe for you to taunt a man who is just recovering from a weakening sickness," he said. "If it were n't for my father, I 'd shoot you like the cur that you are, if I hanged for it."