perceived the picture of a handsome boy, far back in one of the pigeon-holes, and with the familiarity born of country intercourse, she looked intently at it, remarking upon the boy's beauty.
"A child whom I loved very much," said Hosmer. "He's dead," and he closed the desk, turning the key in the lock with a sharp click which seemed to add--"and buried."
Thérèse then approached the open door, leaned her back against its casing, and turned her pretty profile towards Hosmer, who, it need not be supposed, was averse to looking at it--only to being caught in the act.
"I want to look in at the mill before work closes," she said; and not waiting for an answer she went on to ask--moved by some association of ideas:--
"How is Joçint doing?"
"Always unruly, the foreman tells me. I don't believe we shall be able to keep him."
Hosmer then spoke a few words through the telephone which connected with the agent's desk at the station, put on his great slouch ha