what then?”

“Doctah, there is no longer any hope for me. God called me and let me cut off all hope, once. I did it, and now, only death can change it.”

“If I believe you, you must believe me. We won’t talk of it any more. I’m hungry. Your mother was churning up there; let’s go and get some buttermilk, and settle the business of the rent. You’ve run three good furrows and I’ll run three more beside them — my first, remember, in all my life. Then we’ll plant that strip to sunflowers. Come, Hoyle, tie the mule and follow us.”

So David carried his way. They walked merrily back to the house, chattering of his plans and what he would raise. He knew nothing whatever of the sort of crops to