From the graveyard all went to old Jason’s house, for the old man insisted that Martha Hawn must make her home with him until young Jason came back to the mountains for good.  Until then Mavis, too, would stay there with Jason’s mother, and with deep relief the boy saw that the two women seemed drawn to each other closer than ever now.  In the early afternoon old Jason limped ahead of him to the barn to show his stock, and for the first time Jason noticed how feeble his grandfather was and how he had aged during his last sick spell.  His magnificent old shoulders had drooped, his walk was shuffling, and even the leonine spirit of his bushy brows and deep-set eyes seemed to have lost something of its old fire.  But that old fire blazed anew when the old man told him about the threats and insults of little Aaron Honeycutt, and the story of Mavis and Gray.

“Mavis in thar,” he rumbled, “stood up fer him agin me—­agin me.  She ‘lowed thar wasn’t a Hawn fitten to be kinfolks o’ his even by marriage, less’n ’twas you.”

“Me?”

“An’ she told me—­me—­to mind my own business.  Is that boy Gray comin’ back hyeh?”

“Yes, sir, if his father gets well, and maybe he’ll come anyhow.”

“Well, that gal in thar is plum’ foolish about him, but I’m goin’ to let you take keer o’ all that now.”

Jason answered nothing, for the memory of Gray’s worshipping face, when he went down the walk with Marjorie at Gray’s own home, came suddenly back to him, and the fact that Mavis was yet in love with Gray began to lie with sudden heaviness on his mind and not lightly on his heart.

“An’ as fer little Aaron Honeycutt—­”

Over the barn-yard gate loomed just then the huge shoulders of Babe Honeycutt coming from the house where he had gone to see his sister Martha.  Jason heard the shuffling of big feet and he turned to see Babe coming toward him fearlessly, his good-natured face in a wide smile and his hand outstretched.  Old Jason peered through his spectacles with some surprise, and then grunted with much satisfaction when they shook hands.

“Well, Jason, I’m glad you air beginnin’ to show some signs o’ good sense.  This feud business has got to stop—­an’ now that you two air shakin’ hands, hit all lays betwixt you and little Aaron.”

Babe colored and hesitated.

“That’s jus’ whut I wanted to say to Jason hyeh.  Aaron’s drinkin’ a good deal now.  I hears as how he’s a-threatenin’ some, but if Jason kind o’ keeps outen his way an’ they git together when he’s sober, hit’ll be easy.”

“Yes,” said old Jason, grimly, “but I reckon you Honeycutts had better keep Aaron outen his way a leetle, too.”

“I’m a-doin’ all I can,” said Babe earnestly, and he slouched away.

“Got yo’ gun, Jason?”

“No.”

“Well, you kin have mine till you git away again.  I want all this feud business stopped, but I hain’t goin’ to have you shot down like a turkey at Christmas by a fool boy who won’t hardly know whut he’s doin’.”