Josie was dead, and the gray-haired mother said simply,
"We've had a heap of trouble since you've been away." I
had feared for Jim. With a cultured parentage and a social
caste to uphold him, he might have made a venturesome
merchant or a West Point cadet. But here he was, angry with
life and reckless; and when Fanner Durham charged him with
stealing wheat, the old man had to ride fast to escape the
stones which the furious fool hurled after him. They told Jim
to run away; but he would not run, and the constable came
that afternoon. It grieved Josie, and great awkward John
walked nine miles every day to see his little brother through
the bars of Lebanon jail. At last the two came back together
in the dark night. The mother cooked supper, and Josie
emptied her purse, and the boys stole away. Josie grew thin
and silent, yet worked the more. The hill became steep for
the quiet old father, and with the boys away there was little to
do in the valley. Josie helped them to sell the old farm, and
they moved nearer town. Brother Dennis, the carpenter, built
a new house with six rooms; Josie toiled a year in Nashville,
and brought back ninety dollars to furnish the house and
change it to a home.
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