There was a long silence.
"Whut you goin' to do down thar?"
The lad lifted his head fiercely and looked from the woman to the man and back again.
"I'm a-goin' to git that land back," he snapped; and as there was no question, no comment, he settled back brooding in his chair.
"Hit wasn't right—hit COULDN'T 'a' been right," he muttered, and then as though he were answering his mother's unspoken question:
"I don't know HOW I'm goin' to git it back, but if it wasn't right, thar must be some way, an' I'm a-goin' to find out if hit takes me all my life."
His mother was still silent, though she had lifted a comer of her apron to her eyes, and the lad rose and without a word of good-night climbed the stairs to go to bed. Then the mother spoke to her husband angrily.
"You oughtn't to let the boy put all the blame on me, Steve—you made me sell that land."
Steve's answer was another yawn, and he rose to get ready for bed, and Mavis, too, turned indignant eyes on him, for she had heard enough from the two to know that her step-mother spoke the truth. Her father opened the door and she heard the creak of his heavy footsteps across the freezing porch. Her step-mother went into the kitchen and Mavis climbed the stairs softly and opened Jason's door.
"Jasie!" she called.