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Mendocino on the question； 〃Is poetry morally beneficial？〃 For a
few moments he was silent。 But presently she took the initiative
in conversation； at first slowly and abstractedly； and then； as if
appreciating his sympathetic reticence； or mayhap finding some
relief in monotonous expression； talked mechanically； deliberately；
but unostentatiously about herself。 So colorless was her
intonation that at times it did not seem as if she was talking to
him； but repeating some conversation she had held with another。
She had lived there ever since she had been in California。 Her
husband had bought the Spanish title to the property when they
first married。 The property at his death was found to be greatly
involved； she had been obliged to part with much of it to support
her childrenfour girls and a boy。 She had been compelled to
withdraw the girls from the convent at Santa Clara to help about
the house； the boy was too youngshe feared； too shiftlessto do
anything。 The farm did not pay； the land was poor； she knew
nothing about farming； she had been brought up in New Orleans；
where her father had been a judge； and she didn't understand
country life。 Of course she had been married too youngas all
girls were。 Lately she had thought of selling off and moving to
San Francisco； where she would open a boarding…house or a school
for young ladies。 He could advise her； perhaps； of some good
opportunity。 Her own girls were far enough advanced to assist her
in teaching； one particularly； Cynthia； was quite clever； and spoke
French and Spanish fluently。
As Mr。 Bowers was familiar with many of these counts in the
feminine American indictment of life generally； he was not perhaps
greatly moved。 But in the last sentence he thought he saw an
opening to return to his main object； and； looking up cautiously；
said：
〃And mebbe write po'try now and then？〃 To his great discomfiture；
the only effect of this suggestion was to check his companion's
speech for some moments and apparently throw her back into her
former abstraction。 Yet； after a long pause； as they were turning
into the lane； she said； as if continuing the subject：
〃I only hope that； whatever my daughters may do； they won't marry
young。〃
The yawning breaches in the Delatour gates and fences presently
came in view。 They were supposed to be reinforced by half a dozen
dogs； who； however； did their duty with what would seem to be the
prevailing inefficiency； retiring after a single perfunctory yelp
to shameless stretching； scratching； and slumber。 Their places
were taken on the veranda by two negro servants； two girls
respectively of eight and eleven； and a boy of fourteen； who
remained silently staring。 As Mr。 Bowers had accepted the widow's
polite invitation to enter； she was compelled； albeit in an equally
dazed and helpless way； to issue some preliminary orders：
〃Now； ChloeI mean aunt Dinahdo take EuniceI mean Victorine
and Unaaway； andyou knowtidy them； and you； Sarahit's
Sarah； isn't it？lay some refreshment in the parlor for this
gentleman。 And； Bob； tell your sister Cynthia to come here with
Eunice。〃 As Bob still remained staring at Mr。 Bowers； she added；
in weary explanation； 〃Mr。 Bowers brought me over from the Summit
woods in his buggyit was so hot。 Thereshake hands and thank
him； and run awaydo！〃
They crossed a broad but scantily…furnished hall。 Everywhere the
same look of hopeless incompleteness； temporary utility； and
premature decay； most of the furniture was mismatched and
misplaced； many of the rooms had changed their original functions
or doubled them； a smell of cooking came from the library； on whose
shelves； mingled with books； were dresses and household linen； and
through the door of a room into which Mrs。 Delatour retired to
remove her duster Mr。 Bowers caught a glimpse of a bed； and of a
table covered with books and papers； at which a tall； fair girl was
writing。 In a few moments Mrs。 Delatour returned； accompanied by
this girl； and Eunice； her short…lipped sister。 Bob； who joined
the party seated around Mr。 Bowers and a table set with cake； a
decanter； and glasses； completed the group。 Emboldened by the
presence of the tall Cynthia and his glimpse of her previous
literary attitude； Mr。 Bowers resolved to make one more attempt。
〃I suppose these yer young ladies sometimes go to the wood； too？〃
As his eye rested on Cynthia； she replied：
〃Oh； yes。〃
〃I reckon on account of the purty shadows down in the brush； and
the soft light； eh？ and all that？〃 he continued； with a playful
manner but a serious accession of color。
〃Why； the woods belong to us。 It's mar's property！〃 broke in
Eunice with a flash of teeth。
〃Well； Lordy； I wanter know！〃 said Mr。 Bowers； in some astonishment。
〃Why； that's right in my line； too！ I've been sightin' timber all
along here； and that's how I dropped in on yer mar。〃 Then； seeing a
look of eagerness light up the faces of Bob and Eunice； he was
encouraged to make the most of his opportunity。 〃Why； ma'am；〃 he
went on； cheerfully； 〃I reckon you're holdin' that wood at a pretty
stiff figger； now。〃
〃Why？〃 asked Mrs。 Delatour； simply。
Mr。 Bowers delivered a wink at Bob and Eunice； who were still
watching him with anxiety。 〃Well； not on account of the actool
timber； for the best of it ain't sound；〃 he said； 〃but on account
of its bein' famous！ Everybody that reads that pow'ful pretty poem
about it in the 'Excelsior Magazine' wants to see it。 Why； it
would pay the Green Springs hotel…keeper to buy it up for his
customers。 But I s'pose you reckon to keep italong with the
poetessin your famerly？〃
Although Mr。 Bowers long considered this speech as the happiest and
most brilliant effort of his life； its immediate effect was not；
perhaps； all that could be desired。 The widow turned upon him a
restrained and darkening face。 Cynthia half rose with an appealing
〃Oh； mar！〃 and Bob and Eunice； having apparently pinched each other
to the last stage of endurance； retired precipitately from the room
in a prolonged giggle。
〃I have not yet thought of disposing of the Summit woods； Mr。
Bowers；〃 said Mrs。 Delatour； coldly； 〃but if I should do so； I will
consult you。 You must excuse the children； who see so little
company； they are quite unmanageable when strangers are present。
Cynthia； WILL you see if the servants have looked after Mr。
Bowers's horse？ You know Bob is not to be trusted。〃
There was clearly nothing else for Mr。 Bowers to do but to take his
leave； which he did respectfully； if not altogether hopefully。 But
when he had reached the lane； his horse shied from the unwonted
spectacle of Bob； swinging his hat； and apparently awaiting him；
from the fork of a wayside sapling。
〃Hol' up； mister。 Look here！〃
Mr。 Bowers pulled up。 Bob dropped into the road； and； after a
backward glance over his shoulder； said：
〃Drive 'longside the