“Well, she's in thar now. She'd heard we was goin' to move an' come over jest after supper. She was plumb happy to see Sally so tickled. I didn't mean to eave'drop, but I went in the entry jest now to hang up my bridle an' couldn't help it. It was so purty, I could 'a' listened all day—Sally puttin' on, an' tellin' 'er she'd send the carriage over fer 'er to spend the day, an' that Cynthia must be shore an' send in 'er cyard at the door so thar 'ud be no mistake, an' so on.”
Floyd made no response. He was studying Pole's face, digging into it with his eyes for something he felt lay just beneath the unruffled surface.
“Then I heard some'n' else,” Pole said; “an' I'm goin' to feel mean about totin' it to you, beca'se women has a right to the'r secrets, an' who they pick an' choose fer the'r life-mates ort to be a sacred matter, but this is a thing I think you have a right to be onto.”
“What is that, Pole?” Floyd seemed to be holding his breath. He was almost pale in his great suspense.
“Why I heard Cynthia deny up an' down flatfooted that she was engaged to Hillhouse. Lord, you ort to 'a' heard her snort when Sally told 'er it had been the general belief about here ever since her an' him went off to Cartersville. She was good mad. I know that fer I heard Sally tryin' to pacify 'er. I heard Cynthia say all of a sudden: 'My mother put that report into circulation. I know it now, and she had no right to do it.'”
Floyd breathed more freely, a gleam of hope was in his eyes, his face was flushed. He said nothing.
Pole suddenly drew his feet back from the fire. “Don't you want a drink o' fresh water, Nelson?” he asked.
“No, thank you,” Floyd said.
“Well, I do. Keep yore seat. Since I left off whiskey I'm a great water-drinker.”
Pole had been gone only a minute when Floyd heard light steps in the entry leading to the kitchen. He sprang up, for Cynthia stood in the door-way.