PURPLE SPRINGS

BY

NELLIE L. McCLUNG

1921

 CONTENTS

 I. THE DAY BEFORE II. THE DAY III. THE HOUSE OF CLAY IV. TANGLED THREADS V. WHERE MRS. CROCKS THREW THE SWITCH VI. RED ROSES VII. THE INNOCENT DISTURBER VIII. THE POWER OF INK IX. THE DOCTOR'S DECISION X. THE WOMAN WITH A SORE THOUGHT XI. ENGAGED XII. THE MACHINE XIII. THE STORM XIV. THE SEVENTH WAVE XV. THE COMING OF SPRING XVI. PRINCE OF THE HOUSE OF CLAY XVII. PETER'S REPORT XVIII. THE WOMAN OF PURPLE SPRINGS XIX. THE END OF A LONELY ROAD XX. ANNIE GRAY'S STORY XXI. THE OPENING OF THE WAY XXII. THE PLAY XXIII. COMPENSATION XXIV. HOME AGAIN XXV. THERE IS NOTHING TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE

CHAPTER I

THE DAY BEFORE

It was the last day of February, the extra day, dead still, and bitingcold, with thick, lead-colored skies shading down to inky blue at thewestern horizon. In the ravine below John Watson's house trees crackedominously in the frost, and not even a rabbit was stirring. The henshad not come out, though an open door had extended an invitation, andthe tamworths had burrowed deeper into the stack of oat straw. Thecattle had taken refuge in the big shed, and even old Nap, in spite ofhis thick Coat, had whimpered at the door to be let in. 

Looking out of the western window, Pearl Watson, with a faint wrinklebetween her eyebrows, admitted to herself that it was not a cheerfulday. And Pearl had her own reasons for wanting fine weather, fortomorrow was the first of March, and the day to which she had beenlooking forward for three years to make a momentous decision. 

The thought of this day had gone with her in the three years that hadpassed, like a radiant gleam, a glorious presence that brightened andidealized every experience of life, a rainbow that glorified everyblack cloud, and there had been some clouds in her life black enoughto bring out the rainbows' colors too; as when her mother's seriousillness had called her back from the city, where she was attendingschool. But each day had brought her one day nearer the great day, which now she could call "Tomorrow. "

It had never occurred to Pearl to doubt the young doctor's sincerity, when, three years before, he had said he would wait until she waseighteen years old before he asked her something. 

"And it will depend on your answer, " he had said, "what sort of a dayit is. It may be a dark, cold, horrible day, with cruel, biting wind, or it may be a glorious day, all sunshine and blue sky--that will alldepend on your answer. " And she had told him, honestly and truthfully, not being skilled in the art of coquetry, that "it generally was fineon the first of March. "

That the young doctor might have forgotten all about the incidentnever crossed her mind in the years that followed. She did not knowthat there was witchery in her brown eyes and her radiant young beautythat would stir any young man's heart and loosen his tongue, causinghim to say what in his sober moments he would regard as foolishness. 

Pearl did not know this; she only knew that a great radiance had cometo her that day, three years before, a radiance whose glory had notdimmed. Every thought and action of her life had been influenced byit, and she had developed like a fine young tree on which the springsunshine had perpetually fallen, a fine young tree that had beensheltered from every cold blast, watered by the rains and bathed inperpetual sunshine, for Pearl's young heart was fed from the hiddensprings of love and romance. For her the darkest night was lighted bystars; for her the birds sang of love and hope and happiness; for herthe commonest flower was rich in beauty and perfume; and so the end ofthe three years found her a well developed, tall, boyishly athleticgirl, with a color in her cheeks like an Okanagon peach, hair ofrichest brown, with little gleams of gold, waving back naturally froma high forehead; a firm chin, with a dimple; and great brown eyes, full of lights, and with a dazzling brilliance that registered everythought of her brain and emotion of her heart. 

From the time when she was twelve years old the young doctor, who hadthen just come to Millford, had been her hero--worshipped afar, and ingreat secrecy. 

Many a time when the family lived in the village, and Pearl was leftto mind the swarm of boys while her mother was out working, she hadraced to the window just to see him drive by, and, having seen him andperhaps caught a smile or nod, if he noticed her, she would go back toher strenuous task of keeping her young brothers clothed and happy andout of the wealth of a quickened imagination she would tell them moreand more wonderful tales of the glorious world into which their youngfeet had strayed. 

When the doctor had time and inclination to talk to her, Pearl'syoung heart swam in a crimson sea of delight, but if by any chancehe hurried by, his mind filled with other things, she suffered fora brief season all the pangs of unrequited affection, and lookedanxiously in the glass many times to see if her face showed signs ofearly decay. 

But the mood soon passed and optimism again reigned. During the timesof depression many a sunflower had its yellow petals torn away, as shesought to wring from it definite information regarding the state ofhis affections. If the sunflower brought in an adverse decision, without a moment's hesitation Pearl began upon another, and continueduntil a real, honest, authentic flower declared in her favor. But thatshe did not really trust the oracles was shown by the great frequencywith which she consulted them!

As she grew older, Pearl would have liked to talk to some one abouther dreams, but it was hard to begin. There was really nothing totell. She might as well try to explain the sparkle of the sunshine, orthe joyousness of the meadowlark's song in the spring, as to try toanalyze the luminous wonder that had come into her own heart that daywhen the purple mist lay on the Tiger Hills, and the snowdrifts werebeginning to sink and sag and break into little streams. It could notbe done. 

But still she wondered what experiences other people had had, andwished that someone would talk to her about it. At the Normal thegirls had talked about "crushes" and "mashes" and people having a"bad case, " and she knew that the one qualification they demanded inmatters of the heart was that the young man should have the meansand inclination to "show a girl a good time. " She could not talk tothem--there did not seem to be any point of contact. And when thesubject of love and marriage was discussed around the family circle, her mother's dictum was always brief and concise:

"You'll get who's for ye--and you'll have your number. There's lots oftrouble for them that don't marry, and there's lots more for them thatdo. But there's no use in advisin' or warnin'; it's like the pigs andthe hot swill--one will stick in his nose and run away squalin'; thenext one will do the same, and the next and the next. They never takewarnin's; it's the way of the world!"

But nothing dimmed the glory of Pearl's rainbow dream or stilled thehappy songs her heart sang day and night. She had often pictured theday the Doctor would come and tell her that the three years were past. He would drive out with his team, for the snow would be too deep forhis car, and she would first hear the sleigh-bells, even before oldNap would begin to bark, and he would come in with his cheeks all redand glowing, with snow on his beaver coat; and he would tell her itwas too fine to stay in, and wouldn't she come for a ride?

So sure was she that he would come that she had laid out on her bed, in the little room under the rafters, her heavy coat, overshoes andscarf, and had spent some time deciding whether her red tam or thebrown velvet hat was the most becoming, and finally favored the tam, because she had once heard the Doctor say that red was the color forwinter, and besides, the brown hat had a sharp rim that might give aperson a nasty poke in the eye ... In case.... 

She made all her preparations on the day before, because, she toldherself, a doctor's time was so uncertain that he might, rememberingthis, be afraid of being called away on The Day, and so come a daysooner. 

Pearl thought of all this as she stood at the window and looked out onthe bare farm yard, swept clean of beast or fowl by the bitter coldwhich had driven them all indoors. A bright fire burned in theKlondike heater, and from the kitchen came the cheerful song of acanary. The house was in a state of great tidiness, with its home madelounge in front of the fire, piled high with gaily flowered cushions, and the brightly striped rag carpet which was the culmination of theunited efforts of the family the winter before, and before the fire atiger-striped cat with her paws stretched out to the heat. 

Pearl was alone in the room, for all the children were at school, herfather and Teddy out, and her mother in the kitchen making the last ofthe mincemeat into pies, which sent out a real baking odor of cinnamonand cloves; a roast of pork that had been "doing too fast, " was nowsitting on the top of the high oven, its angry, sparking, sizzlingtrailing off into a throaty guttering. Some sound or smell of itseemed to have penetrated Nap's dreams, for he wakened suddenly andsat up, licking his lips and pounding the floor with his tail. 

Suddenly the telephone rang, the three short and one long, whichindicated that it was the Watson family who were wanted. Pearl's heartthrilled with expectation. Of course he would phone before he came tomake sure she was at home. The receiver was in her hands in a moment. 

"Hello!" she called, almost choking with excitement. 

"Will you tell your father, " called back a man's voice at the endof the wire, "that the cattle are coming home from the range. Lastnight's snow was too much for them, and Jim Fidler has just phonedthrough to warn us. They're comin' on mad for feed, tramplin' andbawlin', and they'll hit your place first--mos' likely--tho' they mayturn south at Beckers--better phone Beckers and see. "

"All right!" said Pearl, in a steady voice, "all right, and thankyou. "

Pearl hastily put on a coat and went to the barn to give the unwelcomenews to her father and Teddy, who were busy fanning out the weed seedsfrom the seed grain. 

"They're comin' airly, " said John Watson, slowly, as he shook down thebag of seed wheat that he had just filled; "but I guess they are thebest judge of whether they can make a livin' outside any longer. Well, what we have we'll share, anyway. There's no use in contradictin' abunch of hungry steers. Keep a watch on the phone, Pearlie dear, andfind out which way they turn at Beckers'. We'll open up an oat stackfor them, anyway--so if they come rampin' in in the middle of thenight there'll be something ready. "

Pearl ran back across the wind-swept yard to the house, for the onethought in her mind was that a message might come over the phone forher! Ordinarily the home-coming of the hungry cattle would have beenan event of such importance that it would have driven out all others;but there was only one consuming thought in her mind today. 

When she came in the phone was ringing, and her mother, with her handsin the pie-crust, said: "Pearlie, dear, run in to the phone--that'stwice it's rung since you were out, and sure I couldn't go--and methis way. "

Pearl took the receiver down and found a conversation in progress. Shehad no thought of listening in--for at once she surmised it might bea message regarding the cattle going to one of the other houses. Thefirst sentence, however, held her in its grip, and all thought of whatshe was doing was driven from her mind. 

"They are going to offer the doctor the nomination tomorrow--he'llmake the best run of any one in these parts. "

It was a man's voice, far away and indistinct. 

"That will please Miss Morrison--she always wanted to get intopolitics;" it was a woman who replied--"but I'm not so sure she hasany chance, the doctor is a pretty cautious chap. I often think he hasa girl somewhere--he goes to Hampton pretty often. "

"He's not worried over women, believe me, " the man's voice cut in. "Ithink he likes that young Watson girl as well as any one, and she hasthem all skinned for looks--and brains too, I guess. "

The woman's voice came perceptibly nearer, and seemed to almost hissin her ear--unconsciously she felt the antagonism. "That's absurd, "she said, with sudden animation; "why, these people are nobody, the mother used to wash for me a few years ago. They are the verycommonest sort--the father was only a section man. The doctor enjoysher cute speeches, that's all, but there's absolutely nothing init--he as much as told me so. "

Pearl hung up the receiver with a click, and, pressing her lipstogether, walked over to the window with two crimson spots burninglike danger signals on her cheeks. When Pearl's soul was burdened shealways wanted to get outside, where the sky and the wind and the bigblue distance would help her to think. But the day was too cold forthat, so instinctively she walked to the window, where the shortafternoon sun was making a pale glow on the heavy clouds. 

Old Nap came from his place behind the table and shoved his cold noseinto her hand, with a gentle wagging of his tail, reminding her thatall was not lost while she still had him. 

Dropping down on her knees beside him, Pearl buried her face in hisglistening white collar, and for one perilous moment was threatenedwith tears. But pride, which has so often come to our rescue just intime, stepped into her quivering young heart, she stood up and shookher head like an angry young heifer. 

"'Common, ' are they?" she said, with eyes that darted fire; "not halfcommon enough--decent people that do their work and mind their ownbusiness, --helpin' a friend in need and hurtin' no wan--it would be abetter world if people like them were commoner! 'And the mother washedfor ye, did she, you dirty trollop? Well, it was a God's mercy thatsome one washed for you, and it was good clane washin' she did, I'llbet--and blamed little she got for it, too, while you lay in your bedwith your dandruffy hair in a greasy boudoir cap, and had her climbthe stairs with your breakfast. And you'd fault her for washin' foryou--and cleanin' your house--you'd fault her for it! I know the kindof ye--you'd rather powder ye'r neck than wash it, any day!"

No one would recognize the young Normalite who two weeks before hadtaken the highest marks in English, and had read her essay at theclosing exercises, and afterwards had it printed, at the editor'srequest, in the _Evening Echo_, for Pearl's fierce anger had broughther back again to the language of her childhood. 

"And he as much as told you, did he?" she whispered, turning aroundto glare in stormy wrath at the unoffending telephone--"he as much astold you there was nothing in it?"

Pearl puckered her lips and shut one eye in a mighty mental effort toimagine what he would say, but in trying to hear his words she couldonly see his glowing face, the rumpled hair she loved so well, andthen her voice came back like a perfect phonograph record, thatstrong, mellow, big voice which had always set her heart tingling anddrove away every fear. She couldn't make him say anything else but theold sweet words that had lived with her for the last three years. 

The storm faded from her eyes in a moment, and in the rush of joy thatbroke over her, she threw herself down beside old Nap and kissed theshiny top of his smooth black head. Then going over to the telephone, she shook her fist at it:

"Did my mother wash for you, ma'am? She did--and you never had betterwashin' done! Are we common people?--we are, and we're not ashamed. We're doin' fine, thank you--all the children are at school but me, and I've gone thro' the public school and Normal too. The crops aregood--we have thirty head of cattle and six horses, sound in wind andlimb. Some day we'll have a fine new house, and we'll live all over ittoo. John Watson did work on the section, and they'd be fine and gladto get him back. He owes no man a dollar, and bears no man a grudge. I wouldn't change him for the Governor-General for me dad--and nowlisten--I'm tellin' ye something, I'm goin' to marry the doctor--if hewants me--and if you don't like it there's a place you can go to. I'll not be namin' it in the presence of Nap here, for he's a goodChristian. "

"And you, sir, "--she addressed the telephone again, --"I thank you foryour kind words regarding brains and looks. I hope it is a true wordyou speak, for I may need both before I'm done. "

The home-coming of the cows at eventime has been sung about, writtenabout, talked about, painted, and always it has had in it therestfulness of evening, --the drowsy whirr of insects' wings, thebenediction of the sunset, the welcoming gladness of a happy family. But these pictures have not been painted by those of us who have seenthe hungry cattle come in from the range when the snow covers thegrass, or the springs dry up, and under the influence of fear theydrive madly on. 

All day long the range cattle, about three hundred in number hadsearched the river bottom for the grass which the heavy snowfall ofthe night before had covered; searched eagerly, nervously all thewhile, bawling, ill-naturedly pushing and horning, blaming each otherin a perfectly human way. Disconsolately they wandered over the riverto the other bank feeling sure they would find grass there, only tofind the snow over everything, and not even a little rosebush showingits head. 

Then it was that the old cow, an acknowledged leader of the herd, who bore the name of the "Broncho, " on account of her wildness, herglaring red eyes and her branching horns, with an angry toss of herhead to shake the water from her eyes, lifted her voice in one long, angry, rolling bellow that seemed to startle the whole herd. It hadin it defiance, and determination. Like the leading spirit among theleprous men who sat at the gate of Samaria, the "Broncho" gathered upthe feeling of the meeting in one long soul-stirring, racuous bawl, which, interpreted, meant, "Why sit we here until we die?"

The primitive law of self-preservation was at work--even a cow willnot starve quietly. The grass had been scarce for days, and she hadlain down hungry each night for a week; and now, when the grass hadgone entirely, the old cow had taken her determination; she would gohome and demand her right to live. This thought surging through hersoul, gave decision to her movements. Whether the other cattle came ornot did not matter in the least--she knew what she was going to do. The strong northwest wind which began to whip the fresh snow intoloose waves, turned the cattle to face the south east, in whichdirection the settlement lay. Miserable cattle, like miserable people, are easily led. It is only the well-fed and comfortable who are notwilling to change their condition, and so when the others saw the"Broncho" forging up the hill, the whole herd, as if at a word ofcommand, lurched forward up the bank. 

They surged onward, bawling, crowding, trampling, hooking withoutmercy. Companions they had been for months before, eating together, sleeping together, warming each other, playing together sometimes whenthe sun was bright. That was all forgotten now, for the hunger-ragewas on them, and they were brutes, plain brutes, with every kindinstinct dead in their shivering breasts. They knew but one law, thelaw of the strongest, as they drove onward, stumbling and crowding, with the cold wind stinging them like a lash. 

The night closed in, dark and cheerless, closed in early, underthe dull gray, unrelenting skies, and although lights blinked outcheerfully from uncurtained windows, and willow plumes of smoke spreadthemselves on the cold night air above all the farm-houses, the heartsof the people were apprehensive. 

It was the last day of February--green grass was still far away--andthe cattle, hungry, red-eyed and clamorous, were coming home!

CHAPTER II

THE DAY!

 "When time lets slip one little perfect day, O take it--for it may not come again. "

When Pearl woke on the morning of March 1st, it was with a heart solight and happy it brought back the many Christmas mornings thatlay scattered behind her like so many crimson roses, spilling theirperfume on the shining road which led back to childhood. The sunshinethat sifted through the white muslin curtains of the one small window, was rich and warm, as if summer had already come, and Pearl suddenlyremembered that the sky had been overcast and heavy the day before, and the air stinging cold. 

She went to the window, and looking out saw that that the clouds hadall gone, leaving no trace in the unscarred sky. The sun was throwinglong blue shadows over the fields, brightening the trees on the riverbank, with a thin rinse of pale gold. Down in the ravine, the purpleblue of the morning twilight was still hanging on the trees. The housewas very quiet--there did not seem to be anyone stirring, eitherinside or out. 

Pearl dressed herself hastily, humming a tune in happy excitement. Herwhole being was charged with happiness--for the great day had come. 

Coming down stairs on light feet, she threw a red sweater around hershoulders and went out the front door. In her great moments, Pearlcraved the open sky and great blue distances, and on this day of alldays, she wanted to breathe deep of its golden air. Somewhere she hadread about air that tasted like old wine! And as she stood facing theearly sun that had come up in a cloudless sky of deepest blue, sheknew what was meant. 

From the dull tomb of yesterday, with its cavern-like coldnessand gloom, had come the resurrection of a new day, bright, blue, sparkling, cloudless, for March had slipped in quietly in the night, with a gentle breeze of wonderful softness, a quiet breeze, but onethat knew its business, and long before daylight it had licked thehard edges of the drifts into icy blisters, and had purred its wayinto all sorts of forgotten corners where the snow lay thickest. 

It went past Pearl's face now with velvety smoothness--patting hercheeks with a careless hand, like a loving friend who hurries by withno time for anything but this swift re-assurance. But Pearl knew thatthe wind and the sun and the crisp white snow, on which the sunbeamsdanced and sparkled, were her friends, and were throbbing with joythis morning, because it was her great day. 

She went in at last, remembering that the children must be washed andfed for school, and found Danny's garter for him just in time to savehim from the gulf of despair which threatened him. She made up the twotin pails of lunch with which her young brothers would beguile thenoontide hour. She put a button on Mary's spat, in response to herrequest of "Aw, say Pearl, you do this--I can't eat and sew. " Thesudden change in the weather forced a change in the boys' foot-gear, and so there had to be a frenzied hunt for rubbers and boots toreplace the frost-repelling but pervious moccasin. 

One by one, as the boys were ready, fed, clothed and rubbered, theywere started on their two-mile journey over the sunny, snowy road, Danny being the first to so emerge, for with his short, fat legs, hecould not make the distance in as short a time as the others. 

"Mr. Donald wants you to come over on Friday, Pearl--I almost forgotto tell you--he wants you to talk to us about the city, and theschools you were in--and all that. I told him you would!"

This was from Jimmy, the biggest of the Watson boys now attendingschool. 

"All right, " said Pearl, "sure I will. "

There was more to the story, though, and Jimmy went on, --

"And the Tuckers said they bet you thought yourself pretty smart sinceyou'd been to the city.... 

"And then what happened, " asked Pearl, when he paused;

"He went home--it wouldn't stop bleedin'! but Mr. Donald says agood nose-bleed wouldn't hurt him--though of course it was wrong tofight--but it was no fight--you know what they're like--one goodthump--and they're done!"

"Good for you, Jimmy" said his sister approvingly, "never pick aquarrel or hit harder than you need, that's all!--but if troublecomes--be facing the right way!"

"You bet, " said Jimmy, as he closed the door behind him and thestillness which comes after the children have gone fell on the Watsonhome. 

"Sure and ain't the house quiet when they're gone, " said Mrs. Watson, looking out of the window across the gleaming landscape, dotted in sixplaces by her generous contribution to the Chicken Hill school. 

"And it won't be long until they're gone--for good. "

"Cheer up, honest woman, " cried Pearl gaily, "you havn't even losteither Teddy or me, and we're the eldest. It looks to me as if youwill have a noisy house for quite a while yet, and I wouldn't begin toworry over anything so far away--in fact, ma, it's a good rule not toworry till you have to, and don't do it then!"

Pearl was bringing back "the room" to the state of tidiness it enjoyedduring school hours, moving about with joyous haste, yet with strictattention to every detail, which did not escape her mother's eye. 

"It's grand to be as light of heart as you are, Pearlie child, " shesaid, "I'm often afraid for you--when I think of all the sad things inlife and you so sure that everything will happen right. It is to themthat the world is brightest that the darkest days can come, and thelightest heart sometimes has heaviest mournin'. "

A little wither of disappointment went over Pearl's bright face, butshe shook it off impatiently. She wished her mother would not talklike this on this day--of all days. 

"Don't spoil a good day, ma, with sad talk. Look out at the Spring sunthere, and the cattle, even the wild ones from the range, with theirsides steaming and then nosing around so happy now, for getting allabout the bad times they had even as late as last evening. There'sno use telling them there's cold days coming--they wouldn't believenow--and anyway they'll know soon enough. Isn't it best to let everyone have their sunny day--without a cloud on it. "

Before her mother could form an answer, the one long and two shortrings came on the phone. Pearl's heart turned over in its boundingjoy. It had come--she knew it had come. 

She took down the receiver:

"Hello, " she said, in a thin voice. 

"Pearl, " said the voice, deep, mellow, eager. She thought she hadremembered what his voice was like, but she hadn't. It was a hundredtimes sweeter than it had been in her memory. 

"Yes, " she said, holding the receiver so tightly her knuckles wentwhite with the pressure. 

"What day is it, Pearl, " he said, with the laugh in his voice, thebantering laugh that made his patients love him. 

"O I know" she said--"I know. "

"You haven't forgotten what we said?"

"Not a word of it. "

His voice came nearer, though he spoke lower. 

"The train is not in yet, it is stuck out in the hills, but likely toget out any minute. Dr. Brander is on it, coming out from the city tooperate for me in a very serious case, I'm not sure when I can getout--but you'll wait for me--won't you, Pearl?"

She put her red young lips close to the transmitter. 

"For a thousand years!" she said. 

"Well, it won't be that long, " he said, with his happy laugh. 

Pearl knew exactly how his brows were lifted, and his eyes wideopened. 

"But it's great to have as good a margin, Pearl--and listen--" hisvoice fell again until it seemed to whisper in her ear--"did youhappen to notice what sort of a day it is?"

"Well, " said Pearl, "I am not surprised. Didn't I tell you it wouldbe?"

"You told me!" he said. 

Then it was that from Pearlie Watson's young heart there opened up ashining path straight up into heaven, and every inch of that radianthighway was bright with the gleam of angel's wings, and as she stoodthere leaning against the wall, her eyes dazzled with the glory of it, it seemed as if all the sweet songs that lovers have ever sung, andall the tender words they have ever spoken came marching, gailymarching down the shining high way, right into her heart. 

Outside the sun gleamed and beat on the melting snow, which sent backquivery vibrations that smote the eyeballs like fire. The cattle shookthe water from their sun-dazzled eyes, and turned their heads awayfrom it, but it climbed steadily higher until it stood right overthem, and blazing down upon the snowy world, defied old man Winter tohis face. 

Pearl was never quite sure about it in after years. But that dayshe did not doubt her eyes, that star dust danced in the waves ofsunshine; that the gray snow birds played crack the whip outside thewindow; that the willow hedge, palpitating in the sunshine, beat timewith its silvery branches to the music that lilted through her heart;that the blue in the sky was bluer than it had been, and the sunshinemore golden than it ever was in the highest noon in highest June. 

She was quite sure it was so, for every spot of color within doors wasglorified too. The roses in the cushions on the lounge glowed likea fire in the heart of a green wood; the cat's eyes gleamed likeolivines, but of course Pearl knew from the way he rubbed his headagainst her shoulder as she sat on the lounge beside him, and fromthe way he blinked at her--he knew, having no doubt in some occultcat-way, listened in on the phone! There was no mistaking hisswaggering air of importance--he was in on it! and gave much credit tohimself for having brought it all about. 

The old dog, being just a plain, honest-hearted, loving dog, onlyknew that Pearl was very happy over something. He did not probe thecause--if it pleased her--it was enough. 

At four o'clock there came another message--which set Pearl's heartdancing, and spotted her cheeks with a glowing color--the operationwas over--apparently successful--and they were driving back to town. The other train might be late too, so it would be impossible for himto come out--but would she still wait? Did the thousand year limitstill hold?

There was just a hint of fatigue in his voice, which awakened all thematernal instincts in Pearl, and made her heart very tender to him. 

"I will wait--forever, " said Pearl. 

"Just until tomorrow, " came back the voice--"just till tomorrow--andit will be fine tomorrow--won't it, Pearl! Say it will be fine. "

"Finer still, " she replied, with her cheeks like the early roses inJune. 

The day went by on satin wings--with each minute so charged withhappiness that Pearl could well believe that heaven had slipped downto earth, and that she was walking the streets of the new Jerusalem. She sang as she worked in the house, her sweet, ribbony voice fillingthe room with a gladness and rapture that made her mother, with hermystical Celtic temperament almost apprehensive. 

"She's a queer girl, is Pearlie, " she said that night, when Pearl hadgone upstairs to arbitrate a quarrel which had broken out betweenBugsey and Danny as to whose turn it was to split the kindling wood. "Day about" it had been until Bugsey had urged that it be changed to"week about, " and the delicate matter in dispute now was as to the dayon which the week expired. Danny, who had been doing the kindling, wascertain that the date of expiry had arrived, but Bugsey's calendarset the day one day later, and the battle raged, with both sides ablyargued, but unfortunately not listened to by the opposing forces. 

"She's a queer child, is Pearlie, " said Mrs. Watson, as she beat upthe bread-batter downstairs, "she's that light-hearted and free fromcare, and her eighteen years old. She's like somethin' that don'tbelong on earth, with her two big eyes shinin' like lamps, and the wayshe sings through the house, settin' the table or scourin' the milkpails or mendin' a coat for the boys--it don't seem natural. She's toohappy, whatever its' about, and it makes me afraid for her. She's thekind that sees nothin' wrong, and won't see trouble comin' till itstoo late. I often feel afraid she's too good and happy for this world. She's always been the same, liltin' and singin' and makin' everyonehappy around her. "

Jimmy was washing his face in the enamel basin which stood on a boxbelow the mirror, and looking around with a dripping wet face, feltwith a wildy swinging motion of his arms for the towel. When he hadsecured it, and all danger of soapsuds getting into his eyes wasremoved, he joined the conversation. 

"Gosh, Ma!" he said, "you don't know Pearl, she's not the saint youtake her for. I'll bet the Tucker kids don't think she's too good tolive. Not much! They know she can hold up her end of a row as well asany one. When she found out they had killed the cat they got fromus, and tanned the skin to make a rim on a cap, you should have seenPearl. She just cut loose on the two of them, and chased them throughthe sloughs and up the road clear home--larrupin' them with a binderwhip, as fast as she could swing it--the yowls out of them would havedone your heart good!"

Mrs. Watson stopped her work, with her floury hands raised inconsternation. 

"God's mercy, " she cried, "did Pearl do that--and both of thembigger'n her. Ain't it a wonder they did not turn on her?"

"Turn"---Jimmy cried scornfully, "Turn--is it? They were too busyrunnin'. Gosh--they would'a flew if they knew how. Served themright--they knew blame well they deserved it, for Pearl would neverhave given them the cat if they hadn't worked it so smooth. They toldher they wanted a strain of Tiger in their cats, for all of theirswere black--and Pearl, gave them our fine young Tom--and they promisedall sorts to be good to him--and when Pearl saw his skin on theircaps, and put it to them, they said they hadn't said it was a 'strainof tiger for their cats' they wanted, but a 'strand of tiger for theircaps'--that's what made Pearl so mad. " Mr. Donald said Pearl didquite right, and he told the Tuckers they were the making of greatpoliticians--they were so smart at getting out of things. But Gosh, you should have seen Pearl! She finished the job off right, too, youbet, and made them put up slab at the school and did the printin' onit in red ink. You can see it there, --they have had to print it overonce or twice. We all know the words off by heart:

 Young Tom, Tiger cat, Owned by P. Watson, Given away in good faith April 1st, Wickedly killed to make a cap, April 15th, Avenged by former owner, May 1st. T. Tucker. S. Tucker. 

People all look at it when they come to the church, and I guess theTuckers feel pretty small. Pearl says if they are really sorry, it isall right, and young Tom has not died in vain. Every cat has to diesometime, and if he had softened the Tucker's hearts--it is all right. Pearl said she wasn't real sure about them, and I guess if they killanother cat, she'll kill them sure--she said that's the way to do withpeople like them. Make them repentant--or dead!"

"God save us all, " cried Mrs. Watson, in real distress, "whatever willhappen to her when she goes out into the world. That's awful talk fora girl especially. Whatever will become of her when she leaves home. She'll be in hot water all the time. "

"No fear of Pearlie!" said her father proudly--as he opened the enddoor of the stove and picked up a coal for his pipe, placing itwithout undue haste in the bowl, and carefully pressing it down withhis thumb. Leaning back in the chintz-covered rocking chair, he spreadhis feet out to the heat which came from the oven door, and repeated, "No fear of Pearlie--there ain't a girl in the country better ableto do for herself. Faith--and she's no fool--and never was--I ain'tworrying about Pearlie wherever she goes--or whatever she meets--Iain't worrying. "

"You don't worry about anything, John, " said Mrs. Watson, in reproof, as she covered the bread with many wrappings and fixed two chairs tohold it behind the stove for the night; "you didn't even worry thenight the crop froze, sleepin' and snorin' the whole night through, with me up every half hour watching the thermometer, and it slippin'lower and lower, and the pan o' water on the woodpile gettin' itslittle slivers of ice around the edge, and when the thermometer wentto thirty, I knew it was all up with the wheat, but do you think Icould wake you--you rolled over with a grunt, leavin' me alone tothink of the two hundred acres gone in the night, after all our hardwork ... And then to have you come down in the mornin', stretchin'and yawnin', after a good night's sleep, and says you, as cheerful ascould be, 'Cold mornin', Ma!'"

John Watson took his pipe from his mouth, and laughed quietly. 

"And what was wrong with that, Ma--sure now it was cold--you saidyourself it was, " he said gently. 

The boys joined in the laugh, but Mrs. Watson repeated her point. 

"Cold it was, sure enough, but think o' me up frettin' and fumin', andyou come down as cheerful as if starvation wasn't starin' us in theface. "

"But we didn't starve, Ma, " said Billy, coming to his father'sdefense, "the crop was all right for feed, and we did well after all. You had all your frettin' for nothing. "

"It's that way mostly, " said John Watson, "I never saw any good yet infrettin'. Anyway, Ma does enough of it for all of us, so that letsme out. There's the two kinds of Irish--them that don't fret overanything--and them that frets over every thing--that's me and you, Ma--and it works out fine--it runs about even. You've always been sosure that things were goin' wrong, I've just had to be a little surerthat they wern't. And then of course I knew that night that you wouldwatch the frost--if there was any watchin' to it. "

"John, it is well for you that you have some one to do your watchin', "said Mrs. Watson. "You're an easy goin' man, John, but I'll say thisfor you, that a better natured man never lived. "

When all the family had gone to bed, and the last sound had died outin the house, Pearl stood long at the window and looked out at themoonlit valley. The warm day had melted the frost from the window, andwhen she put out the lamp, the moonlight seemed almost as clear asday. Silvery-mauve and blue it lay on the quiet, snowy fields, with adeeper color on the trees, as if they had wound yards and yards of thegauzy stuff around their bare shoulders, for the night was chilly. ToPearl it was even more beautiful than the sunshine of the day, for inits silvery stillness, she could think and dream without interruption. 

The night was too beautiful to sleep, and the riot of joy in her heartmade her forget that anyone ever grew weary or tired. She was part ofthe moonlight, with its glistening witchery, part of the overarchingsky, with its wealth of glittering stars, part of the velvety nightwind that caressed the trees in its gentle passing. Her young soul wasin tune with them all! For the greatest thing in life had come toher in those few common-place words that had come to her over thetelephone. He had not forgotten--he was coming tomorrow!

The tired note in his voice had awakened an entirely new chord in thesong her heart sang. He needed her. He needed some one to look afterhim, care for him, watch him, save him from the hundred littleworrying things that were sapping his energy. People did notunderstand that he ever got tired--he was so strong, so buoyant, soready to do things for them. Well, there will be someone now, thoughtPearl, with a glow that surged through her veins and made her cheeksflame, to take care of him. 

"Is the doctor in, Mrs. Clay?"

"He is--but he's sleeping--maybe I can tell you what you want toknow--step in here--so he won't hear us--he was out all night--and hemust not be wakened.... "

And when he had to go--she would harness the team and drive him, so hecould sleep all the way, and when the roads were fit for it, she woulddrive the car--and soon she would be able to set bones and do commonthings like that. He would show her--and then they would go to NewYork--in two or three years maybe--he had told her once he wanted todo this--for a post-graduate course--and they would have a littlesuite, and she would study, too. 

And always, always, always they would be together--and no matter howmany people there were praising him and wanting him--he would just beher man--and at night, when he was tired--and all the noise of the daywas over and everyone was gone, she would have him all to herself. 

Pearl's head sank on the window sill, while an ecstacy of joy sweptover her--happy tears filled her eyes--life was so sweet--so rich--sofull.... 

CHAPTER III

THE HOUSE OF CLAY

When the operation was over, the two doctors drove back to Millford, the younger man so deeply engrossed in his own thoughts he hardlyheard the older doctor's incessant conversation. But that did not inany wise discourage Dr. Brander, for to him, talking was much likebreathing, it went on easily, unconsciously, and without the necessityof a listener. 

On Dr. Clay there had fallen the pleasant, drowsy feeling of onewhose work is done for the day, and a hard day it had been, with itsuncertainty of the delayed train, and his patient's condition. But allhad gone well, and his patient's reaction had been satisfactory. Morethan that, the older doctor had concurred in all that he had done, andcommended his treatment of the case from the beginning. 

So, comfortably seated in the cutter, with a brown bear robe overtheir knees, and the mate of it over the seat, the two doctors drovehome in the purple-blue twilight, seated side by side, but with mindsfar removed from each other. 

The doctor's horses knew every road that led home, and trotted onwithout any guidance or word from him--they were a fine team of glossychestnuts of whom the young doctor was extremely proud. But tonight, astrange lassitude of spirit was upon him and he only wanted to relaxhis weary brain and dream away the snowy miles to the rhythmic beat ofthe horses' hoofs. 

He had never been more contented in his life. His work was goingwell--that day the Liberals had offered him the nomination for thecoming provincial election! It was an honor which he appreciated, though he had no desire to enter politics. He loved his work--thepeople he served were devoted to him--he could read it in their facesand their stammering words. He knew what they wanted to say, even though it was conveyed in a few halting fragments ofsentences--"You're all right--Doc--sure--glad you got here--we knewyou'd make it--somehow--you and them high steppers of yours can getthrough the snow--if any one can. "

Slowly, for a great weariness was on him, he began to think of Pearl, the red-cheeked shining-eyed Pearl, who had singled him out for herfavor ever since he came to the village six years ago; Pearl, with hercontagious optimism and quaint ways, who had the good gift of puttingevery one in good humor. He smiled to himself when he thought ofhow often he had made it convenient to pass the school just at fouro'clock, and give Pearl and the rest of them a ride home, and thedelight he had always had in her fresh young face, so full of lightsand shadows. 

"Robbing the cradle, eh, Doc?" Sam Motherwell had once said, in hisclumsy way, when he met them on the road--"Nothin' like pickin' themout young and trainin' them up the way you want them. "

He had made no answer to this, but he still felt the wave of angerthat swept over him at the blundering words. "All the same, I wishPearl were older"--he had admitted to himself that day. "If shekeeps her wise little ways and her clever tongue, she'll be a greatwoman--she has a way with her. "

At the rink, he had always looked forward to a skate with her--it wasreally a dull night for him if she were not there, and now he wonderedjust what it was that attracted him so. There was a welcoming gladnessin her eyes that flattered him, a comradeship in her conversation thatdrew him on to talk with more ease and freedom; there was a wholesomefriendliness in what she said, which always left him a sense ofphysical and mental well-being. 

"What a nurse she would make, " he thought, "what a great nurse;" "Iwish she were older ... Eighteen is too young for a girl to marry--Iwouldn't allow it at all--if I didn't know who she is getting--thatmakes all the difference in the world ... Of course her father andmother may object, but I believe what Pearl says, goes--what Pearlsays will go--with all of us! The Parker house can be bought--andfixed up ... We'll have a fireplace put in, and waterworks--I wish Idid not feel so tough and tired ... But she said she'd wait a thousandyears!"

Suddenly the voice of Dr. Brander rasped through his brain, andbrought him to attention:

"Clay, you're in love, or something--I don't believe you've heard aword I said, you young scamp, in the last six miles--and you've misseda fine exposition on cancers--causes and cure. "

"I beg your pardon, Dr. Brander, " he apologized, "I believe I wasalmost asleep. I get into a drowsy habit on my long drives--especiallywhen I am coming home--when the days' work is over--it seems good tostretch out--but I do apologize: What were you saying?"

"O, I'm done now, " said his companion, not in the least disturbed; "Iwant you to tell me about yourself and your work here. You know youinterest me, Clay. You are a sort of popular idol with all thesepeople, and I have been wondering how you do it. A man must givefreely of himself to be as popular as you are, Clay--do you ever findyourself giving out under the strain, and in need of a rest?"

"Just a little tired, sometimes, " the young man confessed, "but it'snothing--at all. "

The old man watched him narrowly, taking careful note that the pallorof his face had suddenly changed to a heightened color. "When we getsupper, Clay, I want to have a serious talk with you. You may rememberthat I approached this subject the last time you were in the city. I want to give you the report on the examination I gave you at thattime. " There was a quality in his voice which gave the young man amomentary sense of dread, not unmixed with a certain impatience. Hewas too tired to be bothered. He wanted nothing but a chance to thinkhis own thoughts, as the sorrel team struck off the miles with theirtireless feet. 

When they had had supper at the Chinese restaurant, they went to thedoctor's office. The sun, though long since set, still threw spikesof light upon the western sky and caught the under side of one raggedcloud which seemed to have been forgotten in an otherwise clear sky. 

In the office, a cheerful coal fire glowed through its mica windows, and in front of the doctor's leather chair, were his slippers, andover it was thrown a brightly colored house coat. 

A gasoline lamp threw a strong white light on the comfortable room, and the city papers lay, still unfolded, on the table beside a pile ofletters. 

The old doctor exclaimed with delight:

"Who fixes you up so fine, Clay--surely there's a woman around thisplace!"

"My landlady"--said the young doctor, "looks after me. "

"I know, I know, " said the older man, "I know the kind of fellow youare--the kind women love to fuss around. I'll bet you get dozens ofbedroom slippers and ties and mufflers at Christmas. Women are likecats--they love to rub their heads against any one that will strokethem and say 'poor pussy'--they're all the same. "

The old doctor seated himself in the big chair and warmed his handsbefore the glowing coals. 

"And now, Clay, I want to talk to you. There are certain facts thatmust be told. I have been interested in your case ever since I metyou. You are a distinct type, with your impulsive temperament, clearskin and tapering fingers. But what I have to say to you would havebeen said easier if I did not know you so well--and if I had not beenhere and seen you in your native setting--as it were.... Beinga medical man yourself, Clay, you know the difficulties of thesituation. "

The young doctor sat down suddenly, and smiled wanly:

"There need be no difficulty, Dr. Brander", he said, "I am ready tohear ... " he left the sentence unfinished. 

The old doctor went on:

"There is no immediate cause for alarm, " he said, speaking slowly, "people live for years with it, as you know--a cracked plate sometimesoutlasts the good one--and as a matter of fact none of us are entirelyfree from it. "

The old doctor was swaying backwards as he spoke, and his voice roseand fell with the motion, as the tone of a phonograph when the door isopened or shut. 

"You will have to be more careful, though, Clay, you will have to calla halt on your activities--there must be no more of the all nightsessions of yours--and those fifty mile drives--it is just likethis--you are carrying a mortgage on your business--a heavymortgage--and yet one that the business can carry--with care, greatcare. Many a good business man carries a heavy mortgage and pays welltoo, but of course it cannot stand financial strain or stress like thebusiness which is clear of debt. With great care, you should be goodfor many years--but you must not draw on your reserves--you must neverspend your capital--you must never be tired, or excited, or hurried, or worried. "

And this climate is a bit strenuous in winter--you must get out beforeanother one comes, and live some place that is easier. This countrykeeps a man on his toes all the time, with its brilliant sunshine, its strong winds, its bracing air. You need a softer air, a dulleratmosphere, a sleepier environment that will make you never do todaywhat you can put off till tomorrow, and never put off till tomorrowwhat you might as well put off till the day after tomorrow. "

"What a life!" broke from the young man's lips. 

"A very fascinating life, my dear sir, " said the old doctor, intoninghis words like a very young clergyman--"a fascinating life, and onethat I would enjoy. Here we hurry up in the morning and hurry to bedat night so we can hurry to get up again in the morning--we chaseourselves around like a cat in the ancient pursuit of its own tail, and with about the same results. The Western mind is in a panic allthe time--losing time by the fear of losing time. The delights ofmediation are not ours--we are pursued, even as we pursue; we are thechasers and the chased; the hunter and the hunted; we are spending andthe spent; we are borrowed and lent--and what is the good of it all? Ihave always wanted to be an Oriental, dreaming in the shade of a palmtree, letting the sun and the wind ripen my fruits and my brain, whileI sat--with never a care--king of the earth--and the air--O, take itfrom me, young fellow, there are wonderful delights in contemplation, delights of which we are as ignorant as the color blind are of thechanging hues of the Autumn woods, or the deaf man is of music. We aredeaf, blind and dumb about the things of the soul! We think activityis the only form of growth. "

The young doctor, whose handsome face had grown pale, watched him witha sort of fascination. The words seemed to roll from his lips withoutthe slightest effort, and apparently without causing his heart oneemotion. If the young doctor had not known him so well, he would havethought him entirely unconcerned:

"We are cursed, you and I, and all of us, " he resumed, with too muchactivity. We are obscessed with a passion for material achievement! Weare hand-worshippers--leg-worshippers--speed-worshippers. We mistakeactivity for progress. "

"But it is progress, " burst from the young man, "activity does bringachievement--development. "

The door of the office opened suddenly, and two young fellows rushedin. 

"Are you coming to the lacrosse meeting, Doc, --we are going toorganize, and we want you for President again, of course. "

Then, seeing the city doctor, whom they recognized, --

"Excuse the interruption, but we can't get on without Dr. Clay, he'sthe whole works of the lacrosse team. "

"I will not be able to go over tonight, boys, " said the Doctor, "butyou'll get on all right. You are getting to work pretty early--this isthe first fine day. "

When the lacrosse boys had gone, Dr. Clay finished his argument:

"These fellows prove what I was saying. When I came here six yearsago, there was not even a baseball team in the place--the youngfellows gathered on street corners in summer, loafing andidling, revelling in crazy, foolish degrading stories--absolutedegenerations--now see them--on the tail of a blizzard, they dig outtheir lacrosse sticks and start the game on the second fine day. From the time the hockey is over now, until hockey time again--thesefellows talk and dream lacrosse, and a decenter, cleaner lot of ladsyou won't find anywhere. Activity has saved them--activity _is_growth, it is life--it is everything!"

The old man shook his head slowly:

"They are not saved, my dear boy--none of us are--who depend onoutward things for your happiness. Outward things change--vanish. 'As a man thinketh in his heart--so is he!'--that is the secret oftriumphant living. As a man thinketh. These fellows of yours--for Iknow this lacrosse team has been one of the many ways you took ofsapping your energy--do not think. They play, run, scrap, cheer, butthere's no meditation--no turning inward of the thoughts, no mentalprogress. 

"It would not be natural for growing boys, alive to their fingertips, to sit yapping like lazy collie dogs, just thinking, " said the youngdoctor heatedly. "They want avenues of self-expression, and inlacrosse and hockey they find it. "

"Artificial aids to happiness--every one of them--crutches for lamesouls--the Kingdom of Heaven is within you, " the old doctor rambledon, "but it is all a part of this great new country--this big west isnew and crude and distinct--only the primary colors are used in thepicture, there are no half tones, no shadows, and above all--orperhaps I should say behind all--no background. A thing is good orbad--black or white--blue or red. We are mostly posters here in thisgreat big, dazzling country. "

In the silence that fell on them, the young man's mind went limpingback to the old doctor's first words--the dreadful, fateful, significant words. He had said it--said the thing that if it were truewould exile him from the world he loved! On him the ban had fallen!

"I suppose, " said he, standing behind his chair, whose back he heldwith nervous fingers, "there is no chance that you might be mistaken. It is hard for me to believe this. I am so strong--so well--so muchalive, except my cough--I am as well as ever I was, and the cough is asimple thing--this seems impossible to me!"

The old doctor had gone to the window to watch the throng of boysand girls who raced past on their way to the hill for an evening'ssleigh-ride. 

"It always seems impossible, " he said, with the air of a man who istotally disassociated from human affairs, and is simply stating aninteresting fact, "that is part of the disease, and a very attractivepart too. The people who have it, never think they have--even to thelast they are hopeful--and sure they will be better tomorrow. No, I amafraid I am not mistaken. You know yourself the theory Clay, of thetwo sets of microbes, the builders and the destroyers. Just at thepresent moment, the destroyers have the best of it--they have put oneover on the builders--but that does not say that the good microbes arenot working--and may yet win. You are young, buoyant, happy, hopeful, temperate in your habits--all of which gives you a better chance--ifyou will throw the weight of your influence on the side of thebuilders--there is a good chance of winning--I should think with yourIrish blood you would enjoy the fight, Clay. "

The young doctor turned around suddenly and threw back his head, withan impatient gesture. 

"I love a fight, Dr. Brander, but it has to be of something worthwhile. I have fought for the life of a man, a woman, a child, and Ihave fought joyfully--for life is sweet, and I desired it for thesepeople, believing it to be a good gift. But in the fight you outlinefor me, I see nothing to fire man's heart. I won't fight for life ifit means just breathing and scraping along at a poor, dying rate, cheating the undertaker of a nice little piece of legitimatebusiness--I can't grow enthusiastic over the prospect ofalways thinking about myself--and my rest--and my sleep--or myclothes--always looking for a draught or fleeing from the night air ora thunderstorm--never able to do a man's job or a day's work. I can'tdo it, Dr. Brander, and you couldn't do it. It's a poor, miserable, dull existence, unhappy for me, and no service to any one. "

Two red spots burned in his cheeks, and the old doctor, noticing them, wished again that he had come to see him sooner. 

"See here, Clay, " he said, sitting down again, with his hands spreadout on his knees, "you exaggerate this thing. You do not think youare working unless you are slaving and owling around all hours of thenight, setting bones and pulling teeth, or ushering into this wickedworld sundry squalling babies who never asked to come, and do not likeit now they are here. You have been as strong as an ox, and keen asa race-horse, now you have to slow up--you have to get out of thiscountry before another winter, and when you come back in Spring youcan go on with your patients--always with care. "

The young doctor surveyed him with curling lip. 

"Resume my practice, " he said, "how simple. Send word ahead, Isuppose, by circular letter--

"'Dear Friends, I will be with you May 1st, to attend to your medicalneeds. Save your appendicitis and neuralgia and broken bones forme. Medical season opens for business May 1st, every one welcome'. Something like that ought to be sufficient to hold my practice. It hasalways seemed to me very inconsiderate for people to get sick inthe winter, and certainly it is no time for infants to begin theircareer.... Now, see here, Dr. Brander, I appreciate all you say. Iknow why you are talking this way to me. It is out of the kindnessof your heart--for you have a soft old heart behind all thatprofessionalism. But it does not look reasonable to me that a man whohas really lived, can ever drag along like you say. Who wants to live, anyway, beyond the time of usefulness? I don't. I want to pass outlike old Prince--you remember my good old roan pacer, do you?"

"That red-eyed old anarchist of yours that no one could harness butyou?"

"That's the one--as good a horse as ever breathed--misunderstood, thatwas all--well, he passed on, as the scientists say, last Fall, passedon in a blaze of glory too, but just how glorious his death was, Idon't believe I realized until tonight. 

"How did it happen?"

"I had a thirty mile drive to see Mrs. Porter, at Pigeon Lake--andjust as I was about to start, another message came that it was veryurgent if her life was to be saved. Old Prince would not drivedouble--and my team was tired out. So I started with him alone. Thesnow came on when I was half way there, and that made the goingbad--to add to the difficulties, a strong wind drove the blindingsnow in our faces. But the old boy ploughed on like a wreckingengine--going out in a storm to clear the track. He knew all about it, I never had to urge him. The last mile was the worst--he fell once, but staggered to his feet and went on, on three legs.... When we gotto the house, I knew it was all up with old Prince--he had made hislast journey. "

"But he was still living when I came out to see him four hours later. The men had put him in a box stall, and had done all they could, buthis eyes were rolling, and his heart missed every fourth beat. "

"The two little girls came out and cried over him, and told him he hadsaved their mother's life, and tried to get him to eat sugar lumps ... And--right to the last there was the same proud look in his red eyes, and he gave me a sort of wink which let me know it was all right--hedidn't blame me or any one--and so I kissed him once, on the whitestar on his honest forehead, and I put my left arm around his head sohe couldn't see what was coming, and sent a bullet through his brain. "

"We buried him on the hillside overlooking the lake, and the littlegirls put a slab up over him, which says:

 "Prince of the house of Clay Who saved our mother's life, Lies here in peace, and lives In grateful memory in our hearts. "

There was a silence, in which each man's mind went back to the oneoverwhelming thought--that bound them so close together. 

Then the young doctor said slowly: "If what you say is true, I envyPrince--and would gladly change places with him. "

The old man recovered himself in a moment: "You take things tooseriously, Clay, " he said quickly: "be glad you are not married. Awife and children clutter up a man's affairs at a time like this--youare quite free from family ties, I believe?"

"Quite free, " the young man replied, "all my relatives live in theEast, all able to look after themselves. I have no person depending onme--financially, I mean. "

"Marriage, " began the old doctor, in his most professional tone, asone who reads from a manuscript, "is one-fourth joy and three-fourthsdisappointment. There is no love strong enough to stand the grind ofdomestic life. Marriage would be highly successful were it not for thefearful bore of living together. Two houses, and a complete set ofservants would make marriage practically free from disappointments. I think Saint Paul was right when he advised men to remain single ifthey had serious work to do. Women, the best of them, grow tiresomeand double-chinned in time. "

The young doctor laughed his own big, hearty laugh, the laugh whichhis devoted patients said did them more good than his medicine. 

"I like that, " he said, "a man with a forty-two waist measure, wearingan eighteen inch collar, finding fault with a woman's double chin. Youare not such a raving beauty yourself. "

The old man interrupted him:

"I do not need to be. I am a doctor, a prescriber of pills, a menderof bones, a plumber of pipes ... My work does not call for beauty. Beauty is an embarrassment to a doctor. You would be happier, youngfellow, without that wavy brown hair and those big eyes of yours, withtheir long lashes. A man is built for work, like a truck. Gold andleather upholstering do not belong there. Women are different; it istheir place in life to be beautiful, and when they fail in that, theyfail entirely. They have no license to be fat, flabby double-chinned, flat-footed. It is not seemly, and of course you cannot tell how anyof them may turn out. They are all pretty at sixteen. That is whatmakes marriage such a lottery. "

"I don't agree with you at all, " said his companion, "it is absurd toexpect a woman of fifty to have the slim grace of a girl of eighteen. My mother was a big woman, and I always thought her very beautiful. I think you have a pagan way of looking at marriage. Marriage is amutual agreement, for mutual benefit and comfort, for sympathy andcompanionship. Family life develops the better side of human nature, and casts out selfishness. Many a man has found himself when he gets awife, and in the caring for his children has thrown off the shackelsof selfishness. People only live when they can forget themselves, forselfishness is death. Your a great doctor, Dr. Brander, but a poorphilosopher. "

The older man smiled grimly. 

"See here, Clay, " he said, "did you ever think of how nature fools uspoor dupes? Nature, old Dame Nature, has one object, and that is topeople the earth--and to this end she shapes all her plans. She makeswomen beautiful, graceful, attractive and gives them the instinct todress in a way that will attract men. Makes them smaller and weakerthan men, too, which also makes its appeal. Why, if I hadn't watchedmy step, I'd been married a dozen times. These little frilled andpowdered vixens have nearly got me.... If nature used half as muchcare in keeping people healthy and free from accidents, as she doesin getting them here--it would be a happier world. But that is notnature's concern--She leaves that to the doctors!"

"Well, how does the time go? Isn't that the train whistle?"

"No hurry, " said Dr. Clay, rising, "it stops at the water-tank, andthat whistle is for the hill. "

They walked over to the station in silence, and stood watching the redeye that came gliding through the moonlit valley. The train seemed tobe slipping in to the station without a sound, in the hope that no onewould notice how late it was. 

"Come up and see me, Clay, " said the old man kindly. "I want to giveyou a thorough examination--and I will expect you in a week--we'lltalk things over, and see what is best. You have my bag, don't bothercoming on--all right then--here's a double seat--so I can stretchout--though it's hardly worth while for an hour. Goodbye Clay, remember all I told you!"

When the doctor went back to his office, he sat long in his chair infront of the fire, and thought. The place was the same--the cheerfulfire--the rows of books--the Fathers of Confederation picture onthe wall--and his college group. Everything was the same as it hadbeen--only himself. Everything in the room was strong, durable, almosteverlasting, able to resist time and wear. He was the only perishablething, it seemed. 

He wondered how people act when confronted by the ruin of their hopes. Do they rave and curse and cry aloud? He could not think clearly--hismind seemed to avoid the real issue and refuse to strike on the soreplace, and he thought of all sorts of other things. 

The permanence--the dreadful permanence of everything in the roomseemed to oppress him. "Man is mortal, " he said, "his possessionsoutlive him every last one of these things is more durable than I am". The gray wall of the office--so strong and lasting--what chance hadan army of microbes against it--the heavy front door, with its cherrypanels and brass fittings, had no fear of draughts or cold. It hadlimitless resistance. The stocky stove, on its four squat legs, couldhold its own and snap its fingers at time. They were all so arrogantlyindestructible, so fearfully permanent--they had no sympathy, nocommon meeting ground with him. 

A knock sounded on the door, and when he opened it, the station agentwas there, with a long box in his hand. 

"It's marked 'Rush, ' so I thought I had better shoot it over to you, Doc, " he said. 

"Thanks, old man, " the Doctor said mechanically, and put the box downon the table. On a white label, in bright red letters, stood out theword 'Perishable. '

The word struck him like a blow between the eyes. "Perishable!" Thenhere was something to which he might feel akin. He opened the box, with detached interest. A sweet breath of roses proclaimed thecontents. He had forgotten about sending for them until now--Pearl'sroses for this day--nineteen American Beauties!

He carefully unpacked the wrapping, and held up the sheaf ofloveliness, and just for one moment had the thrill of joy that beautyhad always brought to him. Pearl's roses! The roses, with which hehad hoped to say what was in his heart--here they were, in all theirexquisite loveliness, and ready to carry the words of love and hopeand tenderness--but now ... He had nothing to say ... Love andmarriage were not for him!

He sat down heavily, beside the table over which the roses layscattered, spilling their perfume in the room. 

He fingered them lovingly, smoothing their velvety petals with atender hand, while his mind sought in vain to readjust itself to thechange the last two hours had brought. 

He turned again to the fire, which glowed with blue and purple lightsbehind the windows of isinglass, curling and flaming and twisting, with fascinating brilliance. Long he sat, watching it, while thesounds outside in the street grew less and less, and at last when hewent to the window, he found the street in darkness and in silence. The moon had set, and his watch told him it was two o'clock. 

The wind whimpered in the chimney like a lonesome puppy, rising andfalling, cying out and swelling with eerie rhythm; a soft spring wind, he knew it was, that seemed to catch its breath like a thing in pain. 

Looking again at the roses, he noticed that the leaves were drooping. He hastily went into the dispensary and brought out two graduatesfilled with water to put them in; but when he lifted them--hesaw, with poignant pain--they were gone past helping--they werefrost-bitten. 

Then it was that he gathered them in his arms, with sudden passion, and as he sat through the long night, he held them closely to him, forkin of his they surely were--these frosted roses, on whose fragrantyoung hearts the blight had so prematurely fallen!

CHAPTER IV

TANGLED THREADS

At daybreak, when the light from the eastern sky came in blue at thewindow blind, and the gasoline lamp grew sickly and pale, the doctorwent to bed. He had thought it all out and outlined his course ofaction. 

He did not doubt the old doctor's word; his own knowledge gavecorroborative evidence that it was quite true, and he wondered he hadnot thought of it. Still, there was something left for him to do. Hewould play up and play the game, even if it were a losing fight. Hisown house had fallen, but it would be his part now to see that theminimum amount of pain would come to Pearl over it. She was young, and had all the world before her--she would forget. He had a curiousshrinking from having her know that he had the disease, for like mostdoctors, he loathed the thought of disease, and had often quotedto his patients in urging them to obey the laws of physiologicalrighteousness, the words of Elbert Hubbard that "The time would comewhen people would feel more disgrace at being found in a hospital thanin a jail, for jails were for those who broke men's laws, but those inthe hospital had broken the laws of God!"

He shuddered now when he thought of it, it all seemed sounnecessary--so wantonly cruel--so so inexplicable. 

Above all, Pearl must not know, for instinctively he felt that if sheknew he was a sick man, she would marry him straight away--she wouldbe so sweet about it all, and so hopeful and sure he would get well, and such a wonderfully skilful and tender nurse, that he would surelyget well. For one blissful but weak moment, which while it thrilledit frightened him still more--he allowed himself to think it would bebest to tell her. Just for one weak moment the thought came--to bebanished forever from his mind. No! No! No! disaster had come to him, but Pearl would not be made to suffer, she would not be involved inany way. 

But just what attitude to take, perplexed him. Those big, soft browneyes of hers would see through any lie he tried to invent, and hewas but a poor liar anyway. What could he tell Pearl? He wouldtemporize--he would stall for time. She was too young--she had seen solittle of the world--it would be hard to wait--he believed he couldtake that line with her--he would try it. 

When he awakened, the sun was shining in the room, with a real springwarmth that just for a minute filled him with gladness and a sense ofwellbeing. Then he remembered, and a groan burst from his lips. 

The telephone rang:

Reaching out, he seized it and answered. 

"It's me, " said a voice, "It's Pearl! I am coming in--I know you'retired after yesterday, and you need a long sleep--so don't disturbyourself--I'll be in about two o'clock--just when the sun isbrightest--didn't I tell you it would be finer still today?"

"You surely did, Pearl, " he answered, "however you knew. "

"I'm not coming just to see you--ma wants a new strainer, and Bugseyneeds boots, and Mary has to have another hank of yarn to finish thesweater she's knitting--these are all very urgent, and I'll get themattended to first, and then.... "

She paused:

"Then you'll come and see me, Pearl"--he finished, "and we'll have themeeting which we adjourned three years ago--to meet yesterday. "

"That's it, " she said, "and goodbye until then. "

He looked at his watch, it was just ten--there was yet time. 

Reaching for the telephone, he called long distance, Brandon. "Give meOrchard's greenhouses, " he said. 

After a pause he got the wire:

"Send me a dozen and a half--no, nineteen--American Beauty roses ontoday's train, without fail. This is Dr. Clay of Millford talking. "

He put back the telephone, and lay back with a whimsical smile, twisting his mouth. "The frosted ones are mine, " he said to himself, "there will be no blight or spot or blemish on Pearl's roses. "

It was quite like Pearl to walk into the doctors' office withoutembarrassment. It was also like her to come at the exact hour she hadstated in her telephone message--and to the man who sat waiting forher, with a heart of lead, she seemed to bring the whole sunshine ofSpring with her. 

Ordinarily, Dr. Clay did not notice what women wore, they all lookedabout the same to him--but he noticed that Pearl's gray coat and fursjust needed the touch of crimson which her tam o'shanter and glovessupplied, and which seemed to carry out the color in her glowingcheeks. She looked like a red apple in her wholesomeness. 

He had tried to get the grittiness of the sleepless night out of hiseyes, and had shaved and dressed himself with the greatest care, telling himself it did not matter--but the good habit was deeplyfastened on him and could not be set aside. 

There was nothing about the well-dressed young man, with his carefullybrushed hair and splendid color, to suggest disease. Pearl's eyesapproved of each detail, from the way his hair waved and parted back;the dull gold and purple tie, which seemed to bring out the bronzetones in his hair and the steely gray of his eyes; the well-cutbusiness suit of rough brown tweed, with glints of green and bronze, down to the dark brown, well-polished boots. 

Pearl was always proud of him; it glowed in her eyes again today, and again he felt it, warming his heart and giving him the sense ofwell-being which Pearl's presence always brought. All at once he feltrested and full of energy. 

When the first greetings were over, and Pearl had seated herself, athis invitation, in the big chair, he said, laughing:

"'Tis a fine day, Miss Watson. "

"It is that!" said Pearl, with her richest brogue, which he had oftentold her he hoped she would never lose. 

"And you are eighteen years old now, " he said, in the same tone. 

"Eighteen, going on nineteen, " she corrected gaily. 

"All right, eighteen--going on--nineteen. Three years ago there was alittle bargain made between us--without witnesses, that we would deferall that was in our minds for three years--we'd give the matter athree years' hoist--and then take it up just where we left it!"

She nodded, without speaking. 

"Now I have thought about it a lot, " he went on, "indeed I do notthink a day has gone by without my thinking of it, and incidentally, I have thought of myself and my belongings. I wish to draw yourattention to them--I am twenty-nine years old--I've got a ten years'start of you, and I will always expect to be treated with respect onaccount of my years--that's clearly understood, is it?"

He was struggling to get himself in hand. 

"Clearly understood, " she repeated, with her eyes on him inunmistakable adoration. 

"Six years ago, " he seemed to begin all over gain--"I came out ofcollege, with all sorts of fine theories, just bubbling over withenthusiasm, much the same as you are now, fresh from Normal, butsomehow they have mostly flattened out, and now I find myself settlingdown to the prosy life of a country doctor, who feeds his own horsesand blackens his own boots, and discusses politics with the retiredfarmers who gather in the hardware store. I catch myself at it quiteoften. Old Bob Johnson and I are quite decided there will be a warwith Germany before many years. We don't stop at Canadian affairs--theworld is not too wide for us! Yes, Pearl, here I am, a country doctor, with an office in need of paint--a very good medical library--in needof reading--a very common-place, second-rate doctor--who will neverbe a great success, who will just continue to grub along. With you, Pearl, it is different. You have ambition, brains--and something aboutyou that will carry you far--I always knew it--and am so glad that atthe Normal they recognized your ability. "

A puzzled look dimmed the brightness of her eyes just for a moment, and the doctor stumbled on. 

"I am all right, as far as I go--but there's not enough of me--I'm notbig enough for you, Pearl. "

Pearl's eyes danced again, as she looked him up and down, and helaughed in spite of himself. 

"For goodness sake, girl, " he cried, "don't look at me, you make meforget what I was saying--I can't think, when you train those eyes ofyours on me. "

Pearl obediently turned her head away, but he could still see thedimple in her cheeks. 

"I have had a long fight with myself, Pearl, " and now that he was backto the truth, his voice had its old mellowness that swept her heartwith tenderness--"a long fight--and it is not over yet. I'm selfishenough to want you---that is about 99. 9% of me is selfish, the otherinfinitesimal part cries out for me to play the man--and do the squarething--I am making a bad job of this, but maybe you understand. "

He came over and turned her head around until she faced him. 

"I have begun at the wrong end of this, dear, I talk as if you hadsaid--you cared--I have no right to think you do. I should rememberyou are only a child--and haven't thought about--things like this!"

"O, haven't I, though, " she cried eagerly. "I've been thinking--allthe time--I've never stopped thinking--I've had the loveliest timethinking. "

The doctor went on in a measured tone, as one who must say the wordshe hates to utter. All the color had gone from his voice, all theflexibility. It was as hard as steel now, and as colorless as a dustyroad. 

"Pearl, I am going to say what I should say, not what I want tosay.... Supposing I did induce you to marry me now. Suppose I could... In ten years from now, when you are a woman grown, you mighthate me for taking advantage of your youth, your inexperience, yourchildish fancy for me--I am not prepared to take that risk--it wouldbe a criminal thing to run any chances of spoiling a life like yours. "

Her eyes looked straight into his, and there was a little muttered cryin them that smote his heart with pity. He had seen it in the faces oflittle children, his patients, who, though hurt, would not cry. 

"And I am selfish enough to hope that in a few years, when you are oldenough to choose, you will think of what I am doing now, and know thesacrifice I am making, and come to me of your own free will--no, I didnot intend to say that--I do not mean what I said--the world is yours, Pearl, to choose as you will--I have no claim on you! You start fair. "

Pearl's cheeks had lost a little of their rosy glow, and her facehad taken on a cream whiteness. She stood up and looked at him, withwidely opened eyes. A girl of smaller soul might have misunderstoodhim, and attributed to him some other motive. Though Pearl did notagree with him, she believed every word he had said. 

"Supposing, " she said eagerly, "that I do not want to startfair--and don't want to be free to choose--supposing I have made mychoice--supposing I understand you better than you do yourself, andtell you now that you are not a second-hand doctor--that you are a sunand a shield to this little town and country, just as you have been tome--you bring health and courage by your presence--the people love andtrust you--suppose I remind you that you are not only a doctor, but the one that settles their quarrels and puts terror into theevil-doer. Who was it that put the fear into Bill Plunkett when heblackened his wife's eyes, and who was it that brought in the twochildren from the Settlement, that were abused by their step-father, and took the old ruffian's guns away from him and marched him in too!That's a job for a second-rate doctor, isn't it? I hear the peopletalking about you, and I have to turn my back for fear they hear myeyes shouting out, 'That's my man you're praising' and here he is, telling me he is a second-rate doctor! Is that what you were when thefever was so bad, and all the Clarke's had it at once, and you nursedsix of them through it? Mrs. Clarke says the only undressing you didwas to loosen your shoe-laces!"

"Don't you see--I know you better than you do yourself. You don't seehow big your work is. Is it a small thing to live six years in a placeand have every one depending on you, praising you--loving you--andbeing able to advise them and lead the young fellows anyway youlike--making men of them, instead of street loafers--and their mothersso thankful they can hardly speak of it. "

"You evidently don't know what we think of you, any of us--and hereI am--I don't know when it began with me--the first day I saw you--Ithink, when I was twelve--I've been worshipping you and treasuring upevery word you ever said to me. I don't know whether it is love ornot, it's something very sweet. It has made me ambitious to look mybest, do my best and be my best. I want to make you proud of me--Iwill make you proud of me--see if I don't--I want to be with you, tohelp you, look after you--grow up with you--I don't know whether it islove or not--it--is something! There is nothing too hard for me to do, if it is for you--everything--any thing would be sweet to me--if youwere with me. Is that love?"

She was standing before him, holding his hand in both of hers, and hereyes had the light in them, the tender, glowing light that seemed toflame blue at the edges, like the coal fire he had watched the nightbefore. 

Impulsively he drew her to him, and for a moment buried his face inher warm, white neck, kissing the curling strands of her brown hair. 

"O Pearl, " he cried, drawing away from her, "O Pearl--you're a hardgirl to give up--you make me forget all my good resolutions. I don'twant to do what I ought to do. I just want you. "

There was a smothered cry in his voice that smote on Pearl's heartwith a sudden fear. Mothers know the different notes in theirchildren's cries--and in Pearl, the maternal instinct was strong. 

She suddenly understood. He was suffering, there was a bar betweenthem--for some reason, he could not marry her!

She grew years older, it seemed, in a moment, and the thought thatcame into her brain, clamoring to be heard, exultantly, insistentlyknocking for admission, was this--her mother's pessimistic way oflooking at life was right--there were things too good to be true--shehad been too sure of her happiness. The thought, like cold steel, layagainst her heart and dulled its beating. But the pain in his eyesmust be comforted. She stood up, and gravely took the hand he held outto her. 

"Doctor, " she said steadily, "you are right, quite right, aboutthis--a girl of eighteen does not know her own mind--it is too seriousa matter--life is too long--I--I think I love you--I mean I thought Idid--I know I like to be with you--and---all that--but I'm too youngto be sure--and I'll get over this all right. You're right in all yousay--and it's a good thing you are so wise about this--we might havemade a bad mistake--that would have brought us unhappiness. But it hasbeen sweet all the time, and I'm not sorry--we'll just say no moreabout it now and don't let it worry you--I can stand anything--ifyou're not worried. "

He looked at her in amazement--and not being as quick as she, herwords deceived him, and there was not a quiver on her lips, as shesaid:

"I'll go now, doctor, and we'll just forget what we were saying--theywere foolish words. I'm thinking of going North to teach--one of theinspectors wrote me about a school there. I just got his letter today, and he asked me to wire him--I'll be back at the holidays. "

She put the red tam on her brown hair, tucking up the loose strands, in front of the glass, as she spoke. Manlike, he did not see that herhands trembled, and her face had gone white. He sat looking at her indeep admiration. 

"What a woman you are, Pearl, " broke from his lips. 

She could not trust herself to shake hands, or even look at him. Herone hope was to get away before her mask of unconcern broke into athousand pieces by the pounding of her heart, which urged her to throwher arms around him and beg him to tell her what was really wrong--oh, why wouldn't he tell her!

"You'll think of this dear, " he said, "in a few years when you are, Ihope, happily married to the man of your choice, and you will have akindly thought for me, and know I was not a bad sort--you'll rememberevery word of this Pearl, and you will understand that what isstrange to you now--and you will perhaps think of me--and if not withpleasure, it will at least be without pain. "

He wanted to give her the roses, which had come just a few momentsbefore she came in, but somehow he could not frame a casual word ofgreeting. He would send them to her. 

She was going now. 

"Pearl, dearest Pearl, " he cried "I cannot let you go like this--andyet--it's best for both of us. "

"Sure it is, " she said, smiling tightly, to keep her lips fromquivering. "I'm feeling fine over it all. " The pain in his voice madeher play up to her part. 

"I can't even kiss you, dear, '" he said. "I don't want you to have onebitter memory of this. I want you to know I was square--and loved youtoo well to take the kiss, which in after life might sting your facewhen you thought that I took advantage of your youth. A young girl'sfirst kiss is too sacred a thing. "

Suddenly Pearl's resolution broke down. It was the drawn look in hisface, and its strange pallor. 

She reached up and kissed his cheek. 

"A little dab of a kiss like that won't leave a sting on any one'sface, " she said. 

She was gone!

CHAPTER V

WHERE MRS. CROCKS THREW THE SWITCH

When Pearl came out of the doctor's office into the sunshine of thevillage street, she had but one thought--one overwhelming desire, expressed in the way she held her head, and the firm beat of herlow-heeled shoes on the sidewalk--she must get away where she wouldnot see him or the people she knew. She realized that whatever it wasthat had come between them was painful to him, and that he reallycared for her. To see her, would be hard on him, embarrassing to themboth, and she would do her share by going away--and she remembered, with a fresh pang--that when she had spoken of this, he had made noobjection, thus confirming her decision that for her to go would bethe best way. 

The three glorious years, so full of hopes and dreams, were over!Pearl's house of hopes had fallen! All was over! And it was not hisfault--he was not to blame. Instinctively, Pearl defended him in hermind against a clamorous sense of injustice which told her that shehad not had a square deal! The pity of it all was what choked her andthreatened to storm her well guarded magazine of self-control! It wasall so sudden, so mysterious and queer, and yet, she instinctivelyfelt, so inexorable!

Pearl had always been scornful of the tears of lovelorn maidens, andwhen in one of her literature lessons at the Normal, the sad journeyof the lily-maid on her barge of black samite, floating down theriver, so dead and beautiful, with the smile on her face and the lilyin her hand, reduced form A to a common denominator of tears, andmade the whole room look like a Chautauqua salute, Pearl had stoutlydeclared that if Elaine had played basketball or hockey insteadof sitting humped up on a pile of cushions in her eastern tower, broidering the sleeve of pearls so many hours a day, she wouldn't havedied so easily nor have found so much pleasure in arranging her ownfuneral. 

But on this bright March day, the village street seemed strangely dulland dead to her, with an empty sound like a phone that has lost itsconnection. Something had gone from her little world, leaving itmotionless, weary and old! A row of icicles hung from the roof of thecorner store, irregular and stained from the shingles above, like anugly set of ill-kept teeth, dripping disconsolately on the sidewalkbelow, and making there a bumpy blotch of unsightly ice!

In front of the store stood the delivery sleigh, receiving its loadof parcels, which were thrown in with an air of unconcern by a blockyyoung man with bare red hands. The horse stood without being tied, inan apparently listless and melancholy dream. A red and white cowcame out of the lane and attempted to cross the slippery sidewalk, sprawling helplessly for a moment, and then with a great effortrecovered herself and went back the way she came, limping painfully, the blocky young man hastening her movements by throwing at her apiece of box lid, with the remark that that would "learn her. "

The sunshine so brilliant and keen, had a cold and merciless tang init, and a busy-body look about it, as if it delighted in shining intoforbidden corners and tearing away the covers that people put on theirsorrows, calling all the world to come and see! Pearl shuddered withthe sudden realization that the sun could shine and the wind couldblow bright and gay as ever, though hearts were writhing in agony!

She hoped she would not see any of the people she knew, for the painthat lay like a band of ice around her heart might be showing in herface--and Pearl knew that the one thing she could not stand was a wordof sympathy. That would be fatal. So she hurried on. She would send awire of acceptance to her inspector friend, and then go over to thestable for her horse, and be on her way home. 

But there is something whimsical about fate. It takes a hand in ouraffairs without apology, and throws a switch at the last moment. IfPearl had not met Mrs. Crocks at the corner, just before she took thestreet to the station, this would have been a different story. But whoknows? We never get a chance to try the other way, and it is best andwisest and easiest of comprehension to believe that whatever is, isbest!

Mrs. Crocks was easily the best informed person regarding localhappenings, in the small town of Millford. She really knew. Everycommunity has its unlicensed and unauthorized gossips, who think theyknow what their neighbors are thinking and doing, but who more oftenthan not get their data wrong, and are always careless of detail. Mrs. Crocks was not one of these. 

When Bill Cavers got drunk, and spent in one grand, roaring spree allthe money which he and his wife and Libby Anne had saved for theirtrip to Ontario, there were those who said that he went through sixhundred dollars that one night, making a rough guess at the amount. Mrs. Crocks did not use any such amateur and unsatisfactory way ofarriving at conclusions. She did not need to--there was a way offinding out! To the elevator she went, and looked at the books undercover of looking up a wheat ticket which her husband had cashed andfound that Bill Cavers had marketed seventeen hundred and eightdollars worth of wheat. From this he had paid his store bill, and theblacksmith's bill, which when deducted, left him eight hundred andfourteen dollars--she did not bother with the cents. The deductionswere easily verified--both the storekeeper and the blacksmith weremarried men!

This was the method she followed in all her research--careful, laborious and accurate at all costs, with a fine contempt for her lessscientific contemporaries. The really high spots in her life had beenwhen she was able to cover her competitors with confusion by showingthat their facts were all wrong, which process she referred to as"showing up these idle gossips. "

James Crocks, her husband, had chosen for himself a gentler avocationthan his wife's, and one which brought him greater peace ofmind--proprietor of the big red stable which spread itself over half ablock, he had unconsciously defined himself, as well as his place ofbusiness, by having printed in huge white letters with black edgingacross the shingled roof, the words:

"HORSE REPOSITORY" PROP. J. CROCKS. 

Here the tired horses could forget the long trail and the heavy loads, in the comfortable stalls, with their deep bedding of clean straw; andhere also, James Crocks himself was able to find the cheerful company, who ate their meals in quietude of heart, asking no questions, imputing no motives, knowing nothing of human intrigue, and aboveall, never, never insisting that he tell them what he thought aboutanything! Most of his waking hours were spent here, where he found thegentle sounds of feeding horses, the honest smell of prairie hay andthe blessed absence of human chatter very soothing and restful. 

As time went on, and James Crocks grew more and more averse to humanspeech--having seen it cause so much trouble one way'n another, Mrs. Crocks found it was an economy of effort to board one of the stableboys, and that is how it came about that Mr. Bertie Peters foundhimself called from the hay-mow above the stable, to his proprietors'guest chamber, and all the comforts of a home, including nightlyportions of raisin pie--and best of all, an interested andappreciative audience who liked to hear him talk. Mrs. Crocks as usualhad made a good choice, for as Bertie talked all the time, he was sureto say something once in a while. A cynical teacher had once said ofBertie, that he never had an "unuttered thought. "

But even though the livery stable happenings as related by Bertie gaveMrs. Crocks many avenues of information, all of her prescience couldnot be explained through that or any other human agency. The youngdoctor declared she had the gift or divination, was a mind reader, andcould see in the dark! Many a time when he had gone quietly to thestable and taken out his team without as much as causing a dog tobark, removing his sleigh bells to further cover his movements, andstealing out of town like an absconding bank-teller, to make a call, returning the same way, still under cover of night, and flatteringhimself that he had fooled her this time, she would be waiting forhim, and timed her call to the exact minute. Just as he got in to hisroom after putting his team away, his phone would ring and Mrs. Crockswould ask him about the patient he had been to see. She did not alwayscall him, of course, but he felt she knew where he had been. There wasno explanation--it was a gift!

Pearl had been rather a favorite with Mrs. Crocks when the Watsonsfamily lived in Millford, but since they had gone to the farm andprosperity had come to them as evidenced by their better clothes, their enlarged house, their happier faces, and more particularlyPearl's success in her school work in the city, all of which hadappeared in the local paper, for the editor was enthusiastic for hisown town--Mrs. Crock's friendly attitude had suffered a change. Shecould put up with almost anything in her friends, but success!

But when she met Pearl on the street that day, her manner wasfriendly. 

"Hello stranger, " she said, "I hear you have been doing big thingsdown there in the city, winnin' debates and makin' speeches. Good foryou, Pearl--I always said you were a smart girl, even when your peoplewere as poor as get-out. I could see it in you--but don't let it spoilyou, Pearl--and don't ever forget you are just a country girl. But Iam certainly glad you did so well--for your mother's sake--many a timeI was dead sorry for her having to work so hard! It's a comfort to hernow to see you doin' so well. Where have been now? I saw you comin'out of the doctor's office just now--anybody sick? You're not lookingas pert as usual yourself--you haven't been powdering' your face, Ihope! No one sick, eh? Just a friendly call then, was it? See here, Pearl--when I was young, girls did not do the chasin', we let the mendo that, and I'm here to tell you it's the best way. And look here, there's enough girls after Doctor Clay without you--there was a manfrom the city telling Bertie at the stable that he seen our doctor ina box at the Opera with the Senator's daughter two weeks ago, and thatshe is fair dippy about him, and now that he is thinking of goin'into politics, it would be a great chance for him. The other side aredetermined to make him run for them against old Steadman, and the oldlady is that mad she won't let his name be mentioned in the house. Shesays the country owes it to Mr. Steadman to put him in by acclamation!And the doctor hasn't accepted it yet. The committee went to seehim yesterday and he turned them down but they won't take no for ananswer, and they asked him to think it over--I suppose he told you allabout it--"

For the first time Mrs. Crocks stopped for breath. Her beady eyes wereglistening for excitement. Here was a scoop--if Pearl would only tellher. She would be able to anticipate the doctor's answer. 

"What is he goin' to do, Pearl, I know he would tell you; I havealways said that doctor thinks more of you than he does of any of theother girls! What did he say about it, will he take it?"

Pearl was quite herself now--composed, on her guard, even smiling. 

"I think the doctor would prefer to make his own announcement, " shesaid, "and he will make it to the committee. "

Mrs. Crocks' eyes narrowed darkly, and she breathed heavily in herexcitement. Did Pearl Watson mean to tell her in as many words, tomind her own business. But in Pearl's face there was no guile, and shewas going on her way. 

"Don't be in a hurry, Pearl, " said Mrs. Crocks, "can't you wait aminute and talk to an old friend. I am sure I do not care a pinwhether the doctor runs or not. I never was one to think that womenshould concern themselves with politics--that surely belongs to themen. I have been a home body all my life, as you know, and of course Ishould have known that the doctor would not discuss his business witha little chit like you--but dear, me, he is one terrible flirt, hecannot pass a pretty face. Of course now he will settle down no doubt, every one thinks he will anyway, and marry Miss Keith of Hampton--theKeith's have plenty of money, though I don't believe that counts asmuch with the doctor as family, and of course they have the blueblood too, and her father being the Senator will help. What! must yougo--you're not half as sociable as you used to be when you brought themilk every morning to the back door--you sure could talk then, and tell some of the weirdest things. I always knew you would besomething, but if you freeze up like a clam when you meet oldfriends--it does not seem as if education has improved you. Can't youstay and talk a minute?"

"I could stay, " said Pearl, "and I can still talk, but I have not beenable to talk to you. You see I do not like to interrupt any one somuch older than myself!"

When Pearl walked away, Mrs. Crocks looked after her with a look ofuncertainty on her face. Pearl's words rang in her ears!

"She's smart, that kid--she's smart--I'll say that for her. There isnot a man in town who dare look me in the eye and take a rise likethat out of me, but she did it without a flicker. So I know I had hermad or she wouldn't have said it, but wasn't she smooth about it?"

Then her professional pride asserted itself, reminding her that aslight had been put upon her, and her mood changed. 

"Of all the saucy little jades, " she said to herself--"with the air ofa duchess, and the fine clothes of her! And to think that her motherwashed for me not so long ago, and that girl came for the clothes andbrought them back again! And now listen to her! You put your foot init, Pearl my young lady, when you rubbed Jane Crocks the wrong way, for people cannot do that and get away with it! And remember I amtelling you. "

When Pearl left Mrs. Crocks standing on the street she walked quicklyto the station, but arriving there with the yellow blank in her hand, she found her intention of accepting a school in the North had grownweak and pale. She did not want to go to North, or any place. Shesuddenly wanted to stay. She would take a school some place near--andsee what was going to happen; and besides--she suddenly thought ofthis--she must not decide on anything until she saw Mr. Donald, herold teacher, and got his advice. It would not be courteous to doanything until she saw him, and tomorrow was the day he wanted her togo to the school to speak to the children. Why, of course, she couldnot go---and so Pearl reasoned in that well-known human way of backingherself up in the thing she wanted to do! So she tore off a couple ofblank forms and put them in her purse, and asked the agent if he knewhow the train from the East was, and he gave her the assurance that ithad left the city on time and was whoopin' it along through the hillsat Cardinal when last heard from--and stood a good chance of gettingin before night. 

All the way home, Pearl tried to solve the tangle of thoughts thatpresented themselves to her, but the unknown quantity, the "X" in thishuman equation, had given her so little to work on, that it seemedas though she must mark it "insufficient data" and let it go! Butunfortunately for Pearl's peace of mind it could not be dismissed inthat way. 

One thing was evident--it was some sudden happening or suggestion thathad changed his attitude towards her, for there was no mistaking thetenderness in his messages over the phone the day before--and why didhe remember the day at all, if it were only to tell her that shewas too young to really know her own mind. The change--whatever itwas--had taken place in the interval of his phoning, and her visit, and Mrs. Crocks had said that a committee had gone to see him andoffer him the nomination! What difference would that make? The subtlesuggestion of the senator's daughter came back to her mind! Was itpossible--that the Watson family were--what she had once read of in anEnglish story--'socially impossible. ' Pearl remembered the phrase. Thethought struck her with such an impact that she pulled her horse upwith a jerk, and stood on the road in deep abstraction. 

She remembered the quarrel she had once had with a girl at school. Itall came back in a flash of rage that lit up this forgotten corner ofher memory! The cause of the quarrel did not appear in the record, butthat the girl had flung it at her that her people were nothing andnobody--her mother a washerwoman and her father a section hand--nowstood out in letters of flame! Pearl had not been angry at thetime--and she remembered that her only reason for taking out themiserable little shrimp and washing her face in the snow was thatshe knew the girl had said this to be very mean, and with the prettycertain hope that it would cut deep! She was a sorrel-topped, anaemic, scrawny little thing, who ate slate-pencils and chewed paper, and shehad gone crying to the teacher with the story of Pearl's violenceagainst her. 

Mr. Donald had found out the cause, and had spoken so nicely to Pearlabout it, that her heart was greatly lifted as a result, and theincident became a pleasant recollection, with only the delightfulpart remaining, until this moment. Mr. Donald had said that Pearl wassurely a lucky girl, when the worst thing that could be said to herwas that her two parents had been engaged in useful and honorablework--and he had made this the topic for a lesson that afternoon inshowing how all work is necessary and all honorable. Out of the lessonhad grown a game which they often played on Friday afternoons, when afamiliar object was selected and all the pupils required to writedown the names of all the workers who had been needed to bring it toperfection. 

And the next day when lunch time came, Mr. Donald told them he hadbeen thinking about the incident, and how all that we enjoy in lifecomes to us from our fellow-workers, and he was going to have a newgrace, giving the thanks to where it belonged. He said God was not thekind of a Creator who wanted all the glory of the whole world--for heknew that every man and woman or boy or girl that worked, was entitledto praise, and he liked to see them thanked as they deserved. 

A new grace was written on the board, and each day it was repeated byall the pupils. Pearl remembered that to her it had seemed very grandand stately and majestic, with the dignity and thrill of a pipe-organ:

"Give us to know, O God, that the blessings we are about to enjoyhave come to us through the labors of others. Strengthen the ties ofbrotherhood and grant that each of us may do our share of the world'swork. "

But the aesthetic emotions which it sent through her young soul thefirst time she said it, did not in any way interfere with the sweetsatisfaction she had in leaning across the aisle and wrinkling up hernose at her former adversary!

She began to wonder now if Mr. Donald had been right in his idealisticway of looking at life and labor. She had always thought so until thisminute, and many a thrill of pride had she experienced in thinking ofher parents and their days of struggling. They had been and were, thereal Empire-builders who subdued the soil and made it servehuman needs, enduring hardships and hunger and cold and bitterdiscouragements, always with heroism and patience. The farm on whichthey now lived, had been abandoned, deserted, given up for a bad job, and her people had redeemed it, and were making it one of the bestin the country! Every farm in the community was made more valuablebecause of their efforts. It had seemed to Pearl a real source ofproper pride--that her people had begun with nothing, and were nowmaking a comfortable living, educating their children and makingimprovements each year in their way of living and in the farm itself!It seemed that she ought to be proud of them, and she was!

But since she had been away, she learned to her surprise that theworld does not give its crowns to those who serve it best--but tothose who can make the most people serve them, and she found thatmany people think of work as a disagreeable thing, which if patientlyendured for a while may be evaded ever afterwards, and indeed hermother had often said that she was determined to give her children aneducation, so they would not need to work as hard as she and theirfather had. Education then seemed to be a way of escape. 

Senator Keith, of Hampton, with his forty sections all rented out, didnot work. Miss Keith, his daughter, did not work. They did not need towork--they had escaped!

It was quite a new thought to Pearl, and she pondered it deeply. Thecharge against her family--the slur which could be thrown on them wasnot that of dishonor, dishonesty, immorality or intemperance--none ofthese--but that they had worked at poorly paid, hard jobs, therebygiving evidence that they were not capable of getting easierones. Hard work might not be in itself dishonorable--but it was aconfession. 

Something in Pearl's heart cried out at the injustice of this. It wasnot fair! All at once she wanted to talk about it to--some one, toeverybody. It was a mistaken way of looking at life, she thought; theworld, as God made it, was a great, beautiful place, with enough ofeverything to go around. There is enough land--enough coal--enoughoil. Enough pleasure and beauty, enough music and fun and good times!What had happened was that some had taken more than their share, andthat was why others had to go short, and the strange part of it allwas that the hoggish ones were the exalted ones, to whom many bowed, and they--some of them--were scornful of the people who were stillworking--though if every one stopped working, the world would soon bestarving. 

"It is a good world--just the same, " said Pearl, as she looked away toher left, where the Hampton Hills shoved one big blue shoulder intothe sky-line. "People do not mean to be hard and cruel to eachother--they do not understand, that's all--they have not thought--theydo not see. "

From the farm-houses set back in the snowy fields, came the cheerfulSpring sounds of scolding hens and gabbling ducks, with the occasionalbark of a dog. The sunshine had in it now no tang of cold orbitterness, for in Pearl's heart there had come a new sense ofpower--an exaltation of spirit that almost choked her with happiness. Her eyes flashed--her hands tingled--her feet were light as air. Outof the crushing of her hopes, the falling of her house of dreams, hadcome this inexplicable intoxication, which swept her heart with itsbaptism of joy. 

She threw back her head and looked with rapture into the limitlessblue above her, with something of the vision which came to Elisha'sservant at Dothan when he saw the mountains were filled with thehorses and the chariots of the Lord!

"It is a good world, " she whispered, "God made it, Christ lived init--and when He went away, He left His Spirit. It can't go wrongand stay wrong. The only thing that is wrong with it is in people'shearts, and hearts can be changed by the Grace of God. "

A sudden feeling of haste came over her--a new sense ofresponsibility--there were so many things to be done. She roused thefat pony from his pleasant dream, to a quicker gait, and drove homewith the strange glamour on her soul. 

CHAPTER VI

RED ROSES

When Pearl rode in to the farmyard, she saw her brother Tommy comingin great haste across the fields, waving his arms to her with everyevidence of strong excitement. The other children were on their wayhome, too, but it was evident that Thomas had far outrun them. Tommyhad a tale to tell. 

"There is going to be real 'doin's' at the school on Friday, " hecried, as soon as he was within calling distance of her. "Mr. Donaldhas asked all the big people, too, and the people from Purple Springs, and the women are going to bring pies and things, and there will beeats, and you are to make the speech, and then maybe there will be afootball match, and you can talk as long as you like, and we are allto clap our hands when your name is mentioned and then again when youget up to speak--and it's to be Friday. "

Tommy told his story all in one breath, and without waiting to geta reply, he made his way hurriedly to the barn where his father andTeddy were working. There he again told it, with a few triflingvariations. "You are all to come, and there will be a letter tomorrowtelling you all about it, but it is a real big day that is going to beat school, and all the big people, too, and it is to hear Pearl talkabout what she saw and heard in the city, and there will be cakes andstuff to eat and the Tuckers said they would not come and Jimmy said'Dare you to stay away' and they did not take his dare. "

Teddy, in true brotherly fashion, professed some doubts of the successof the undertaking. 

"Pearl is all right to talk around home, but gee whiz, I don't believeshe can stand right up and talk like a preacher, she'll forget whatshe was goin' to say, I couldn't say two words before all thosepeople. "

John Watson went on with the fanning of the wheat. He had stopped themill only long enough to hear Tommy's message, and Teddy's brotherlyapprehensions, he made no comment. But a close observer would havenoticed that he worked a little faster, and perhaps held his shouldersa little straighter--they had grown stooped in the long days when heworked on the section. Although his shoulders had sagged in the longhard struggle, there had always burned in his heart the hope thatbetter days would come--and now the better days were here. The farmwas doing well--every year they were able to see that they were makingprogress. The children were all at school, and today--today Pearliewas asked to speak to all the people in the neighborhood. Pearlie hadmade a name for herself when she got the chance to get out with otherboys and girls. It was a proud day for John Watson, and his honestheart did not dissemble the pride he felt in his girl. 

Pearl herself had a momentary feeling of fear when she heard the plansthat were being made. The people she knew would be harder to speakto than strangers. But the exaltation that had come to her heart wasstill with her, and impelled her to speak. There were things whichshould be said--great matters were before the country. Pearl hadattended many political meetings in the city, and also as manysessions of the Legislature as she could, and so she knew theProvincial political situation, and it was one of great interest. 

The government had been in power for many years and had built up apolitical machine which they believed to be invincible. They had thecountry by the throat, and ruled autocratically, scorning the feebleprotests of the Opposition, who were few in number and weak in debate. Many a time as Pearl sat in the Ladies' Gallery and listened to theflood of invective with which the cabinet ministers smothered anyattempt at criticism which the Opposition might make, she had longedfor a chance to reply. They were so boastful, so overbearing, sochildishly important, it seemed to her that it would be easy to makethem look ridiculous, and she often found herself framing repliesfor the Opposition. But of course there was a wide gulf between thepompous gentlemen who lolled and smoked their black cigars in themahogany chairs on the redcarpeted floor of the House, and thebright-eyed little girl who sat on the edge of her seat in the galleryand looked down upon them. 

She had been in the gallery the day that a great temperance delegationhad come and asked that the bar might be abolished, and she hadlistened to every word that had been said. The case against the barhad been so well argued, that it seemed to Pearl that the law-makersmust be moved to put it away forever. She did not know, of course, that the liquor interests of the province were the strong supportersof the Government, and the source of the major portion of theircampaign funds; that the bars were the rallying places for thepolitical activities of the party, and that to do away with the barswould be a blow to the Government, and, as the Premier himself hadonce said, "No Government is going to commit suicide, " the chances forthe success of the delegation were very remote. Pearl did not knowthis, and so she was not prepared for it when the Premier and one ofhis Ministers stoutly defended the bar-room as a social gatheringplace where men might meet and enjoy an innocent and profitable hour. 

"It is one of our social institutions that you are asking us todestroy, " cried the Minister of Education, "and I tell you franklythat we will not do it. The social instincts distinguish man from thebrute, and they must be cherished and encouraged. Your request isnot in the best interests of our people, and as their faithfulrepresentatives who seek to safeguard their interests and theirhighest welfare, we must refuse. "

And the Government desks were pounded in wild enthusiasm! And Pearlhad come away with a rage in her heart, the wordless rage of thehelpless. After that she attended every meeting of the SuffrageSociety, and her deep interest and devotion to the cause won for hermany friends among the suffrage women. 

The news of the proposed meeting in the school brought out many andvaried comments, when it was received in the homes of the district. Mr. Donald sent to each home a letter in which he invited all themembers of each family to be present to "do honor to one who hasbrought honor to our school and district. "

Mrs. Eben Snider, sister of Mrs. Crocks, a wizened little pod of awoman with a face like parchment, dismally prophesied that PearlWatson would be clean spoiled with so much notice being taken of her. "Put a beggar on horseback, " she cried, when she read the invitation, "and you know where he will ride to! The Watsons are doing toowell--everything John Watson touches turns to money since he went onthat farm, and this last splurge for Pearl is just too much. I won'tbe a party to it! It is too much like makin' flesh of one and fowl ofthe other. Mr. Donald always did make too much of a pet of that girl, and then all those pieces in the paper, they will spoil her, no girlof her age can stand it--it is only puttin' notions in her head, andfrom what I can hear, there's too much of that now among women. Inever had no time to be goin' round makin' speeches and winnin'debates, and neither has any other decent woman. It would suit Pearlbetter to stay at home and help her mother; they say she goes aroundtown with her head dressed up like a queen, and Jane says she's asstiff as pork when a person speaks to her. I'll tell Mr. Donald what Ithink of it. "

At the Steadman home, the news of the meeting had a happier reception, for Mr. Steadman, who was the local member of Parliament, was askedto preside, and as the elections were likely to take place before theyear was out, he was glad of this chance to address a few remarks tothe electors. He had been seriously upset ever since he heard that theyoung doctor was to be offered the nomination for the Liberals. Thatwould complicate matters for him, and make it imperative that heshould lose no opportunity of making himself agreeable to hisconstituents. 

Before the news of the meeting was an hour old, Mr. Steadman had begunto arrange his speech, and determined that he would merely make a fewhappy random extempore remarks, dashed off in that light, easy waywhich careful preparation can alone insure; and Mrs. Steadman haddecided that she would wear her purple silk with the gold embroidery, and make a Prince of Wales cake and a batch of lemon cookies--some ofthem put together with a date paste, and the rest of them just loose, with maybe a date or a raisin in the middle. 

Mrs. Watson was in a state of nerves bordering on stage fright, fromthe time that Tommy brought home the news, a condition which Pearl didher best to relieve by assuming a nonchalance which she did not feel, regarding the proposed speech. 

"What ever will you talk about, Pearlie, dear, " her mother cried invague alarm; "and to all them people. I don't think the teacher shouldhave asked ye, you could do all right with just the scholars, for anybit of nonsense would ha' done for them, but you will have to mindwhat you are sayin' before all the grown people!"

Pearl soaked the beans for tomorrow's cooking, with an air ofunconcern. 

"Making a speech is nothing, Ma, " she said, "when a person knows how. I have listened to the cabinet ministers lots of times, and there'snothing to it. It is just having a good beginning and a fine flourishat the end, with a verse of poetry and the like of that--it does notmatter what you say in between. I have heard the Premier speak lots oftimes, and they go crazy over him and think he is a wonderful speaker. He tells how he was once a farmer's boy and wandered happily over thepasture fields in his bare feet, and then how he climbed the ladderof fame, rung by rung--that is fine stuff, every one likes that; andwhenever he got stuck he told about the flag of empire that wavesproudly in the breeze and has never known defeat, and the destiny ofthis Canada of ours, and the strangers within our gates who have comehere to carve out their destiny in this limitless land, and when hethought it best to make them sniffle a little he told about the sacredname of mother, and how the tear-drop starts at mention of that dearname, and that always went big, and when he began to run down alittle, he just spoke all the louder, and waved his arms around, andthe people did not notice there was nothing coming; we used to go overand listen to the speeches and then make them when the teachers werenot in the room--it was lots of fun. I know lots of the Premier'sspeeches right off. There is nothing to it, Ma, so don't you befrightened. "

"Pearl, you take things too light, " said her mother severely, "aperson never knows when you are in earnest, and I am frightened aboutyou. You should not feel so careless about makin' speeches, it isnothing to joke about. I wish you would be for writin' out what youare goin' to say, and then we could hear you go over it, and some onecould hold the paper for you and give you the word if you forget--itwould be the safest way!"

"All right, Ma, " said Pearl, "I'll be making it up now while I peelthe potatoes. "

While they were talking there came a knock at the door, and when itwas opened, there stood Bertie from the livery stable, with along green-wrapped box in his hand, which he gave to Mrs. Watson, volunteering without delay, all the information he had regarding it. Bertie never failed to reveal all the truth as he knew it--so, keepingnothing back, he gave the history of the box so far as he had beenable to gather it. 

"It's for Pearl--and the doctor sent it out. I don't know why hedidn't give it to her when she was in, for she was in his office--it'sflowers, for it is marked on it--and they came from Hampton. "

Bertie would have stayed to see the flowers opened, for he knew thatMrs. Crocks would be much interested to know just what they were, andwhat Pearl said, and what her mother said--and if there was a noteinside--and all the other good stuff he would be able to gather, butPearl took them, with an air of unconcern, and thanking Bertie, saidquite carelessly:

"Don't wait for an answer, Bertie, I can phone if there is any need, and I know you are in a hurry--we must not keep you. "

And before Bertie knew what had happened, he found himself walkingaway from the door. 

When the roses had been put in water, and each of the children hadbeen given a smell and a feel of the velvety petals, and Mrs. Watsonhad partially recovered from the shock that the sight of flowers inthe winter, always gave her for they reminded her so of her father'sfuneral, and the broken pillar which the Oddfellows sent; Pearl readthe card:

 "To Pearl--eighteen-going-on-nineteen, Hoping that the years will bring her nothing but joy. "

It was written on one of the doctor's professional cards, and that wasall. But looking again into the envelope there was a folded note whichshe did not read to the assembled and greatly interested group. Whenshe was alone in the little beamed room upstairs, she read it:

"Dear Pearl:--I forgot to give you the roses when you were in thisafternoon. Accept them now with my deep affection. You have been abright spot in my life, and you will always be that--like a red rosein a dull room. Your success will always be very dear to me, and myprophecy is that you will go far. I will always think of you withdeepest admiration and pride. Ever yours, "HORACE CLAY. "

Pearl read it twice; then impulsively pressed it to her cheek. 

"It sounds like good-bye, " she said, with her lips trembling, "itsounds like the last of something. Why won't he tell me? It is notlike him. "

A wither of loneliness went over her face as she clasped the notebetween her hands. 

"I don't believe it is that, " she said fiercely. "I won't believe it!"Mrs. Crocks' words were taunting her; "the doctor thinks more of blueblood than he does of money, and if he goes into politics it will meana lot to him to be related to the senator. "

An overwhelming rage was in Pearl's heart, in spite of herdetermination not to believe the suggestion; a blind, choking rage--itwas all so unfair. 

"My dad is more of a man than Senator Keith, " she said to herself, "for all his fine clothes and his big house. He was nothing but aheeler for the party, and was made Senator because there was no dirtyjob that he would not do to get votes for them. I know how he boughtliquor for the Galicians and brought them in by the car-load to vote, like cattle, and that's blue blood, is it? Sure it is--you can see itin his shot-silk face and his two bad old eyes swollen like oysters!If the doctor wants him he can have him, and it's blamed littlefrettin' I'll do!... My dad eats with his knife, does he? All right, he bought the knife with honest money, and he earned what's on it too. All the dirty money they have would not buy him, or make him do a meantrick to any one. I am not ashamed of him--he suits me, and he can goon eating with his knife and wearing his overalls and doing anythinghe wants to do. He suits me!"

When Pearl went back to the kitchen, her father was taking off hissmock. Supper was ready, and he and Teddy had just come in. The dustof the fanning-mill was on his face and his clothes. His unmittenedhands were red and rough, and bore traces of the work he had beendoing. In his hair were some of the seeds and straws blown out by themill. There was nothing very attractive about John Watson, unless itwas his kindly blue eye and the humorous twist of his mouth, butin Pearl's heart there was a fierce tenderness for her father, aprotective love which glorified him in her eyes. 

"Did you hear the news, pa, " she cried, as she impulsively threw herarms around his neck. "Did you know that I am going to speak in theschool, and they are all coming out to hear me. Are you glad, Pa, anddo you think I can do it?"

Her burning cheek was laid close to his, and he patted her shoulderlovingly. 

"Do I think you can do it, Pearlie, that I do--you can do whatever yougo at--I always knew that. "

"Pearl, child, " cried her mother, "don't be hugging your Pa like that, and you with your good dress on; don't you see the dust and dirt onhim--you will ruin your clothes child. "

Pearl kissed him again, and gave him one more hug, before she said, "It is clean dirt, Ma, and it will brush off, and I just couldn'twait; but sure and it's clean dirt anyway. "

"It is gettin' colder, " said John Watson, as he hung up his smockbehind the door, "our Spring is over for awhile, I think. I saw twogeese leggin' it back as fast as they could go, and each one scoldin'the other one--we'll have a good spell or winter yet, I am afraid, inspite of our two warm days and all the signs of Spring. "

"Weather like you is too good to last, " said Mrs. Watson complacently, "I knew it wasn't the Spring, it was too good to last. "

Pearl went to the window and looked out--already there was a threat ofsnow in the whining wind, and as she watched, a stray flake struck thewindow in front of her. 

"It was too good to last, " she said with a sigh which broke into a sobin the middle, "It was too good to be true!"

CHAPTER VII

THE INNOCENT DISTURBER

If there was any lack of enthusiasm among the parents it had noreflection in the children's minds, for the Chicken Hill School, afterthe great announcement, simply pulsated with excitement. Countrychildren have capabilities for enjoyment that the city child knowsnothing about, and to the boys and girls at Chicken Hill the prospectof a program, a speech from Pearl Watson, and a supper--was mostalluring. Preparations were carried on with vigor. Seats were scrubbedby owners, and many an ancient landmark of ink was lost forever. Frayed window blinds that had sagged and dropped, and refused to go upor down, were taken down and rolled and put back neat and even, andthe scholars warned not to touch them; the stove got a rubbingwith old newspapers; mousy corners of desks were cleaned out--andobjectionable slate rags discarded. Blackboards were cleaned anddecorated with an elaborate maple leaf stencil in green and brown, anda heroic battle cry of "O Canada, we stand on guard for thee" executedin flowing letters, in the middle. Mary Watson was the artist, andspared no chalk in her undertaking, for each capital ended inan arrow, and had a blanket of dots which in some cases nearlyobliterated its identity. But the general effect was powerful. 

The day before, every little girl had her hair in tight braidssecurely knotted with woollen yarn. Boudoir caps were unknown in theChicken Hill School, so the bare truth of these preparations were tobe seen and known of all. Maudie Steadman had her four curls set inlong rags, fastened up with pins, Mrs. Steadman having devised a new, original way of making Maudie's hair into large, loose "natural"curls, which were very handsome, and not until this day did Mrs. Steadman show to the public the method of "setting. "

Mr. Donald had placed all details of the entertainment in the handsof Mary Watson and Maudie Steadman, and no two members of aHouse-Committee ever worked harder, or took more pleasure in makingarrangements. 

"Let's not ask the Pipers--they're dirt poor, " said Maudie, when theysat down at noon to make out the list of providers. 

"Indeed, we will, " said Mary, whose knowledge of the human heart wasmost profound. "If people are poor, that's all the more reason whythey would be easily hurt, and it's not nice for us to even know thatthey are poor. We'll ask them, you bet--and Mrs. Piper will bringsomething. Besides--if we didn't ask them to bake, they wouldn'tcome--and that's the way rows start in a neighborhood. We'll manage itall right--and if there are any sandwiches left over--we'll send themto the smaller children, and the Pipers will come in on that. It ain'tso bad to be poor, " concluded Mary, out of her large experience, "butit hurts to have people know it!"

When Pearl, with her father and mother arrived at the school on theafternoon of the meeting, it came to her with a shock, how small theschool was, and how dreary. Surely it had not been so mouse-gray andshabby as this when she had been there. The paint was worn from thefloor, the ceiling was smoked and dirty, the desks were rickety anduneven--the blackboards gray. The same old map of North America hungtipsily between the blackboards. It had been crooked so long, that itseemed to be the correct position, and so had escaped the eye of theHouse-Committee, who had made many improvements for this occasion. 

In the tiny porch, there were many mysterious baskets and boxes andtin pails of varying sizes, and within doors a long table at the backof the room had on it many cups and saucers, with a pile of tissuepaper napkins. A delightful smell of coffee hung on the air. 

Pearl wore her best brown silk dress, with a lace collar and cuff setcontributed the Christmas before by her Aunt Kate from Ontario, and ather waist, one of the doctor's roses. The others had been broughtover by Mary, and were in a glass jar on the tidy desk, where theyattracted much attention and speculation as to where they hadcome from. They seemed to redeem the bare school-room from utterdreariness, and Pearl found herself repeating the phrase in thedoctor's letter, "Like a rose in a dark room. "

The children were hilariously glad to see Pearl, and her lightness ofheart came back to her, when a group of them gathered around her toreceive her admiration and praise for their beautifully curled hair, good clothes and hair ribbons. Bits of family history were freelygiven to her too, such as Betty Freeman's confidential report on hermother's absence, that she dyed her silk waist, and it streaked, andshe dyed it again--and just as soon as she could get it dry, she wouldcome--streaks or no streaks--and would Pearl please not be in a hurryto begin. 

Then the meeting was called to order, and the smaller children wereset like a row of gaily colored birds around the edge of the platform, so their elders could sit on their little desks in front, and theschoolroom was filled to its last foot of space. There were about adozen chairs for the older people. 

Pearl had gone to the back of the room to speak to the old gardenerfrom Steadman's farm, a shy old man, who just naturally sought themost remote corner for his own. Her affectionate greeting brought aglow into his face, that set Pearl's heart throbbing with joy:

"It's good to see you, Pearl, " he said, "you look like a rose to me, and you don't forget an old friend. "

Pearl held the hard old gnarled hand in her own, and her heart wasfull of joy. The exaltation of the day she rode home was comingto her. Love was the power that could transform the world. Peopleeverywhere, all sorts of people, craved love and would respond to it. "If I can cheer up poor old Bill Murray, and make him look like this, with a glisten in his eyes, I'm satisfied, " she thought. 

To Mr. Donald Pearl looked like a rose, too, a rose of his owngrowing, and his voice trembled a little when he called the meeting toorder and in his stately way bade everyone welcome. 

"I am going to hand over the meeting to Mr. Steadman in a moment, " hesaid, "but before I do I wish to say that the Chicken Hill Schoolis very proud today to welcome one of its former pupils, Miss PearlWatson. "

At this the gaily colored company who bordered the platform, burstinto ecstatic hand clapping, in which the older members joined rathershamefacedly. Demonstrations come hard to prairie people. 

"The years she spent in this school were delightful years to me, " wenton Mr. Donald. "She helped me with the younger children--she helpedme to keep up enthusiasm for the work--she helped me to make lifepleasant for all of us--she did more--she helped me to believe thatlife is worth the struggle--she helped me to believe in myself. I wasnot surprised that Pearl made a record in her work in the city; shecould not fail to do that. She is in love with life--to me, she is theembodiment of youth, with all its charms and all its promise. "

"I have wanted to hear her impressions of the city. Nothing, to her, is common-place--she sees life through a golden mist that softens itssharp outlines. I am glad that every one could come today and give awelcome home to our first graduate from Chicken Hill School!"

This threatened to dislodge the seating arrangement on the platform, for in their enthusiastic applause, the Blackburn twins on accountof the shortness of their legs and the vigor of their applause, losttheir balance and fell. But they bore it well, and were restoredwithout tears! The excitement was so great that no one of the youngrow would have known it if they had broken a bone!

"And now I will ask our local member, Mr. Steadman, to take chargeof the meeting, and give the neighborhood's welcome to our firstgraduate!"

Then Mr. Steadman arose! He was a stout man, with a square face, andsmall, beady black eyes and an aggressive manner; a man who felt sureof himself; who knew he was the centre of his own circle. There was awell-fed, complacent look about him too which left no doubt that hewas satisfied with things as they were--and would be deeply resentfulof change. There was still in his countenance some trace of hisancestor's belief in the Divine right of kings! It showed in hisnarrow, thought-proof forehead, and a certain indescribable attitudewhich he held toward others, and which separated him from hisneighbors. Instinctively, the people who met him, knew he lacked humansympathy and understanding, but he had a hold on the people of hisconstituency, for through his hands went all the Government favors andpatronage. Anyone who wanted a telephone, had to "see Mr. Steadman. "The young people who went to the city to find employment, were wise tosee Mr. Steadman before they went. So although he was not liked, hehad a prestige which was undeniable. 

Mr. Steadman began his remarks by saying how glad he was to be offeredthe chair on this glad occasion. He always liked to encourage theyoung, and he believed it our duty to be very tolerant and encouragingto youth. 

The boundaries of the platform began to wriggle. They had heard Mr. Steadman before--he often came in and made speeches--but he neverbrought any oranges--or peanuts or even "Farmers' Mixed. "

"Youth is a time of deep impressions, " went on the chairman; "wax toreceive--granite to retain. Youth was the time of learning, and hehoped every boy and girl in his presence would earnestly apply himselfand herself to their books, for only through much study could successbe attained. That is what put him where he was today. "

More wriggles, and some discussion at his feet!

He was glad to know that one of Mr. Donald's pupils had been able todo so well in the city. Three cheers for the country! He had alwaysbelieved it was the best place to be brought up--and was glad to saythat he too, had spent his youth on a farm. Most of the successful menof the world came from the farms. 

He believed absolutely in education for women, education of a suitablekind, and believed there was a definite place for women in theworld--a place which only women could fill. That place wasthe home--the quiet precincts of home--not the hurly-burly ofpolitics--that was man's sphere--and a hard sphere it was, as he knewwell. He didn't wish to see any woman in such a hard life, with itsbitter criticism and abuse. He was sorry to notice that there was anew agitation among women in the city--it had come up in the sessionjust closed--that women wanted to vote. 

Mr. Steadman threw out his hands with a gesture of unconcern:

"Well, " I say, "let them vote--if they want to--let them run the wholecountry; we'll stay at home. It's time we had a rest, anyway!"

A little dry cackle of laughter went over the room at this, in whichMr. Donald did not join--so it got no support from the pupils ofChicken Hill, who faithfully followed their teacher's lead. 

Mr. Steadman went on blithely:

"I am old fashioned enough to want my wife to stay at home. I liketo find her there when I come home. I don't want her to sit inParliament; she hasn't time--for one thing. "

Mrs. Steadman sat in front, with the purple plume in her hat noddingits approval:

"And I say it in all kindness to all women--they havn't the ability. They have ability of their own, but not that kind. Parliaments areconcerned with serious, big things. This year, the program beforeour Provincial Parliament, is Good Roads. We want every part of thisProvince to enjoy the blessing of of good roads, over which they canbring their produce to market, binding neighborhoods together in theties of friendship. Good roads for everyone is our policy. "

"Now what do women know about making roads? They are all right to govisiting over the roads after they are built, but how much good wouldthey be in building them?"

This was greeted with another scattered rattle of laughter, followedby a silence, which indicated intense listening. Even the restlessedging of the platform knew something was happening, and listened. 

"Our Opposition is coming forward with a foolish program of fads andfancies. They want the women to have the vote; they want to banish thebar! They want direct legislation. These are all radical measures, new, untried and dangerous. With women voting, I have no sympathy, as I said. They are not fitted for it. It is not that I do not lovewomen--I do--I love them too well--most of them. "

He paused a moment here--but no one laughed. The audience did notbelieve him. 

"There are some women in the city whom I would gladly send to jail. They are upsetting women's minds, and hurting the homes. Don't let ustake any chances on destroying the home, which is the bulwark of thenation. What sight is more beautiful then to see a mother, queen ofthe home, gathering her children around her. She can influenceher husband's vote--her son's vote. --she has a wider and strongerinfluence than if she had the vote to herself. Her very helplessnessis her strength. And besides, I know that the best women, the verybest women do not want to sit in Parliament. My wife does not wantto--neither did my mother--no true woman wants to, only a fewrattle-brained, mentally unbalanced freaks--who do not know what theywant. "

Pearl smiled at this. She had heard this many times. 

"Now, as to banishing the bar, you all know I am not a drinker. I cantake it--or leave it--but I am broad minded enough to let other peoplehave the same privilege that I ask for myself. Men like to gather ina friendly way, chat over old times or discuss politics, and have aglass, for the sake of good fellowship, and there's no harm done. There are some, of course, who go too far--I am not denying that. Butwhy do they do it? They did not get the right home training--thatis why. In the sacred precincts of home, the child can be taughtanything--that's the mother's part, and it is a more honorable partthan trying to ape men--and wear the pants. "

This brought a decided laugh--though if Mr. Steadman had been sensibleto thought currents, he would have felt twinges in his joints, indicating that a storm was brewing. But he was having what thepreachers call a "good time, " and went merrily on. 

"Direct legislation is a dangerous thing, which would upsetrepresentative government. It is nothing less than rabble rule, letting the ignorant rabble say what we are to do. Our vote is toowide now, as you know, when every Tom, Dick and Harry has a vote, whether they own an inch of ground or not. Your hired man can killyour vote, though you own a township of land. Do you want to give himmore power? I think not! Well if the opposition ever get in power, thewomen and the hired men, and even the foreigners will run the country, and it will not be fit to live in. We're doing all right now, ourpublic buildings, our institutions are the best in Canada. We haveput the flag on every schoolhouse in the country--we have good, sane, steady government, let us stick to it. I believe that the nextelection will see the good ship come safely into port with the sameold skipper on the bridge, and the flag of empire proudly furling itsfolds in the breeze. We have no fears of the fads and fancies putforward by short-haired women and long-haired men. "

That being the end of his speech, the place where his superior alwayssat down, amidst thunderous applause. Mr. Steadman sat down, too, forgetting that he had been asked to be the Chairman, and introducePearl. 

The applause which followed his remarks, was not so vociferous as hehad expected, partly because there were no "Especially instructedclappers. " No one was very enthusiastic, except Mrs. Steadman, whoapparently agreed with all he said. 

Rising to his feet again he said: "The good ladies have bountifullyprovided for our needs today--what would we do without the ladies? butbefore we come to that very interesting item on our program, we aregoing to hear from Pearl Watson. Pearl Watson is one of the girls whohas taken full advantage of our splendid educational system, thanwhich there is none better in Canada--or in the world. As a member ofthe Legislature, I am justly proud of our Department of Education, andtoday we will be entertained by one of our own products, Pearl Watson, on whom we might well hang the label 'Made in Canada. ' I do not knowwhether she intends to say a piece--or what, but bespeak for her arespectful and courteous hearing. "

Mr. Steadman sat down, adjusting his gold and blue tie, and removedhis glasses, which he put away in a large leather case that closedwith a snap. His attitude indicated that the real business of the daywas over, now that he had spoken. 

Pearl came forward and stepped to the platform, displacing temporarilyone of the twins, to make a space where she might step. Havingrestored him safely, she turned to the people. There was a smile inher eyes that was contagious. The whole roomful of people smiled backat her, and in that moment she established friendly relations with heraudience. 

"It has been a real surprise to me, " she began, in a conversationaltone, "to hear Mr. Steadman make a speech. I am sure his colleagues inthe House would have been surprised to have heard him today. He is avery quiet man there--he never speaks. The first night I went to theHouse with a crowd of Normalites, I pointed out our member, to letthose city girls see what we could raise in the country--but it seemsthe speeches are all made by half a dozen, the others just say 'Aye'when they're told. All on one side of the House say 'Aye'; the otherside say 'No. ' I have heard Mr. Steadman say 'Aye, ' lots of times--butnothing more. The Premier, or one of the Cabinet Ministers tells themwhen to say it--it all looks very easy to me. I would have thoughteven a woman could do it. The girls used to tease me about how quietmy representative was. He sat so still that it just seemed as if hemight be asleep, and one girl said she believed he was dead. But oneday, a window was left open behind him--and he sneezed, and then hegot right up and shut it--Do you remember that day, Mr. Steadman?"

He shook his head impatiently, and the expression of his face was notpleasant. Still, no one would attribute anything but the friendliestmotive to Pearl's innocent words. 

"My! I was glad that day, " she said, "when you sneezed, it was a quickstop to the rumor--I tell you--and I never heard any more about it. I am sorry Mr. Steadman is not in favor of women voting, or going toParliament, and thinks it too hard for them. It does not look hard tome. Most of the members just sit and smoke all the time, and read thepapers, and call the pages. I have seen women do far harder work thanthis. But of course what Mr. Steadman says about building roads allover the country, is a new one on me. I did not know that the memberswere thinking of doing the work! But I guess they would be glad to getout and do something after sitting there all cramped up with theirfeet asleep for the whole winter. "

"Still, I remember when Mr. Steadman was Councillor here, and therewas a bridge built over Pine Creek--he only let the contract--he didnot build it--it was his brother who built it!"

There was a queer thrill in the audience at this, for Bill Steadmanhad got the contract, in spite of the fact that he was the poorestbuilder in the country--and the bridge had collapsed inside of twoyears. George Steadman winced at her words. 

But Pearl, apparently innocent of all this, went on in her guilelessway:

"I think Mr. Steadman is mistaken about women not wanting to sit inParliament. He perhaps does not know what it feels like to stand overa wash-tub--or an ironing board--or cook over a hot stove. Women whohave been doing these things long would be glad to sit anywhere!"

There was a laugh at this, in which Mr. Steadman made a heroic attemptto join, shaking his head as he did so, to counteract any evil effectwhich the laugh might cause. 

"But I did not intend to speak of politics, " said Pearl, "I intendedto tell you how glad I am to be back to Chicken Hill School, and howgood home looks to me. No one knows how to appreciate their home untilthey have left it--and gone away where no one cares particularlywhether you are sick or well--happy or miserable. Do you boys find itpretty hard to wash your necks--and you wish your mother hadn't such asharp eye on you--be glad you have some one who thinks enough of youto want your neck to be clean. You hate to fill the wood-box, do you?O, I know what a bottomless pit it is--and how the old stove justloves to burn wood to spite you. But listen! By having to do what youdo not want to do, you are strengthening the muscles of your soul--andgetting ready for a big job. 

"Having to do things is what makes us able to do more. Did you everwonder why you cannot walk on water. It is because water is soagreeable--it won't resist you. It lets you have your own way. 

"The teachers at the Normal talked to us every Friday afternoon, aboutour social duties, and rural leadership and community spirit and lotsof things. They told us not to spend our time out of school tattingand making eyelet embroidery, when there were neighborhoods to beawakened and citizens to be made. That suits me fine, for I can't tatanyway. One of the girls tried to show me, but gave it up after threeor four tries. She said some could learn, and some couldn't. It washeredity--or something. 

"Anyway, Dr. McLean said teachers were people who got special trainingfor their work, and it was up to them to work at it, in school andout. He said that when we went out to teach, we could be a sort ofsocial cement, binding together all the different units into onecoherent community, for that's what was needed in Canada, with itsvaried population. One third of the people in Canada do not speakEnglish, and that's a bad barrier--and can only be overcome bykindness. We must make our foreign people want to learn our language, and they won't want to, unless they like us. 

"He said Canada was like a great sand-pile, each little grain of sand, beautiful in its own way, but needing cement to bind it to othergrains and it was for us to say whether we would be content to be onlya sand pile, or would we make ourselves a beautiful temple. 

"I wish I could give it all to you--it was great to hear him. He saidno matter how fine we were as individuals, or how well we did ourwork, unless we had it in our hearts to work with others, and forothers--it was no good. If we lacked social consciousness, our workwould not amount to much. I thought of our old crumply horn cow. Shealways gave a big pail of milk--but if she was in bad humor, she wouldquite likely kick it over, just as the pail was full. I used to thinkmaybe a fly had stung her, but I guess what was really wrong wasthat she lacked social consciousness. She did not see that we weredepending on her. 

"That's why the liquor traffic is such a bad thing, and should beoutlawed. Individuals may be able to drink, and get away with it, butsome go under, some homes are made very unhappy over it. If we havethis social consciousness, we will see very clearly that the liquortraffic must go! No matter how much some people will miss it. If itisn't safe for everybody, it isn't safe for anybody. I used to wishDr. McLean could talk to the members of Parliament. 

"He told us one of the reasons that the world had so many sore spots init was because women had kept too close at home, they were beginningto see that in order to keep their houses clean, they would have toclean up the streets, and it was this social consciousness working inthem, that made them ask for the vote. They want to do their share, outside as well as in. 

"There was a woman who came and talked to us one day at the Normal. Sheis the editor of the Women's section of one of the papers, and she putit up to us strong, that there was work for each of us. We had to makea report of her address, and so I remember most of it. 

"She said that Canada is like a great big, beautiful house that hasbeen given to us to finish. It is just far enough on so that you cansee how fine it is going to be--but the windows are not in--thedoors are not hung--the cornices are not put on. It needs polishing, scraping, finishing. That is our work. Every tree we plant, everyflower we grow, every clean field we cultivate, every good cow or hogwe raise, we are helping to finish and furnish the house and make itfit to live in. Every kind word we say or even think, every graciousdeed, if it is only thinking to bring out the neighbor's mail fromtown, helps to add those little touches which distinguish a house froma barn. 

"We have many foreign people in this country, lonesome, homesickpeople--sometimes we complain that they are not loyal to us--and thatis true. It is also true that they have no great reason to be loyalto us. We are not even polite to them, to say nothing of being kind. Loyalty cannot be rammed down any ones' throat with a flag-pole. "

Mr. Steadman cleared his throat at this--and seemed about tospeak--but she went on without noticing:

"Loyalty is a gentle growth, which springs in the heart. The seedsare in your hands and mine; the heart of our foreign people is thesoil--the time of planting is now--and the man or woman who bytheir kindness, their hospitality, their fair dealing, honesty, neighborliness, makes one of the least of these think well of Canada, is a Master Builder in this Empire. 

"If we do not set ourselves to finish the house, you know what willhappen to it. I remembered this part of her speech because it made methink about our school-house the year before Mr. Donald came--whenwe could not get a teacher. Do you remember? Windows were brokenmysteriously--the rain beat in and warped and drenched and spoiled thefloors. The chimney fell. Destruction always comes to the empty house, she said--the unfinished house is a mark for the wantonly mischievous. To keep what we have, we must improve it from year to year. And tothat end we must work together--fighting not with each other--but withconditions, discouragements, ignorance, prejudice, narrowness--we mustbe ready to serve, not thinking of what we can get from our country, but what we can give to it. "

In the silence that fell, the people sat motionless. They did notnotice that Pearl was done speaking--for their thoughts went on--shehad given them a new view of the service they might give. 

Mrs. Piper, on whose heart, Pearl's words had fallen like abenediction, saw that in making her rag-carpet, over which she hadworked so hard--she was helping to furnish one little corner of hercountry, for it would make her front room a brighter place, and thereher children, and the boys and girls of the neighborhood would havegood times and pleasant memories. She had thought of it in a vague waybefore, but Pearl had put it into words for her--and her heart wasfilled with a new rapture. It was worth while to work and struggle andtry her best to make a pleasant home. There was a purpose in it all--aplan--a pattern. 

Even Mrs. Thompson had a glimmering of a thought regarding herprecious flowers, the slips of which she never gave away. With themshe could gladden the hearts of some of her neighbors, and NoahThompson, her husband, who made it his boast that he never borrowed orlent, became suddenly sorry he had refused a neck yoke to his Russianneighbor. 

George Steadman, too, found his soul adrift on a wide sea, tornaway from the harbor that had seemed so safe and land-locked, sounassailable; and on that wider sea there came the glimpses of asunrise, of a new day. It puzzled him, frightened him, angered him. In the newness of it all, he detected danger. It blew across hissheltered soul like a draught, an uncomfortable, cold-producingdraught--and when he found himself applauding with the others, heknew that something dangerous, radical, subtle and evil had been letloose--the girl would have to be watched. She was a fire-brand, anincendiary--she would put notions in peoples' heads. It was well hehad heard her and could sound the warning. But he must be politic--hewould not show his hand. The children were singing, and every one hadrisen. Never before had he heard the Chicken Hill people sing likethis:

 "O Canada, our home, our native land, True, patriot love, in all our sons command; With glowing hearts we see thee rise, Thou true land, strong and free, And stand on guard, O Canada We stand on guard for thee. "

The children began the second verse, the people following lamely, forthey did not know the words; but the children, proud of their superiorknowledge, and with a glow in their impressionable little hearts, sangexultantly--this song of home and country. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE POWER OF INK

The Chicken Hill correspondent of the Millford "Mercury" described themeeting in the school as follows:

"The Chicken Hill School was the scene of a happy gathering on Fridayafternoon last, when the neighbors and friends gathered to welcomehome Pearl Watson, who has just completed a successful First ClassTeacher's Normal course in Winnipeg. Pearl is a great favorite, andcertainly disappointed no one, for she gave an address on present dayquestions which will not soon be forgotten. Pearl is an out and outbeliever in temperance and woman suffrage, and before she was through, she had every one with her--as one man put it, he'd like to seethe woman vote, if for nothing else than to get Pearl Watson intoparliament, for there would sure be hides on the barn door if she evergot there, and a rustling of dry bones. "

"After Pearl's address, the ladies of the district servedrefreshments, and a good time was spent. Pearl's arm must have ached, shaking hands, and if she could be spoiled with praise, she would bespoiled for sure, but Pearl is not that kind. It is rumored that shewill be offered the Purple Springs school, and if she accepts, wecongratulate Purple Springs. "

When George Steadman read the Chicken Hills news, his face became ayellowish gray color--much like the hue of badly laundried clothes. His skin prickled, as if with an electric current, for hot rage ateinto his soul. His name was not even mentioned. He wasn't there atall--and he was the member for Millford. Of all the silly rot--well, he'd see about it. 

On Monday morning, with the offending sheet in his hand, Mr. Steadmanmade his way to the "Mercury" office, a dingy, little flat-roofedbuilding, plastered with old circus posters outside, and filled withevery sort of junk inside. At an unpainted desk piled high withpapers, sat the editor. His hair stood up like a freshly laundried, dustless mop; his shirt was dirty; his pipe hung listlessly in hismouth--upside down, and a three days' crop of black beard peppered hisface. He looked like a man who in early youth had slept on newspapersand drank ink, and who now would put his feet on the table if therehad been room, but there was scarcely room for them on the floor, forit was under the table that he kept his exchanges. There were shelvesaround the walls, but they were filled with rubber boots, guns, baskets of letters, a few books, miscellaneous articles of clothingand some empty tobacco jars. 

So on account of the congested condition on and under the table, Mr. Driggs was forced to sit in an uncomfortable position, with his legsand those of the table artistically entwined. 

Mr. Steadman began, without replying to the editor's friendlygreeting:

"Who writes this balderdash from our district, " he asked harshly. 

"Professional secret, " replied Mr. Driggs, speaking through his shutteeth, for he did not wish to dislodge his pipe; the last time he letit out of his mouth he had had no end of a time finding it. "Nevergive away names of contributors, not etiquette. "

"I don't care a hang for your etiquette--I want to know. The memberfor Millford was not in a trifling mood. 

"Sorry, " said Mr. Driggs, holding his pipe still closer. 

"See here, Driggs, " said Mr. Steadman haughtily, "do you know whoyou're talking to--I have it in my power to throw you a good deal ofbusiness one way'n another--I've thrown you a good deal of business. There's an election coming on--there will be bills, cards, streamers, what not; good money in printing for the Government--do you savvy?"

"I savvy, " said Mr. Driggs cheerfully. 

"Well then"--George Steadman was sure now he was going to get theinformation--"who writes this this stuff from Chicken Hill?"

"I don't know, " said the editor calmly, "honest, I don't. This was anew one--strange writing--and all that. I called up Pearl Watson tosee if there had been a meeting, and she verified it, but didn't tellme anything. She said you presided. Then I ran the item--I thought itwas very good--what's wrong with it? It seemed like real good countrycorrespondence to me--with that bucolic freshness which we expect tofind in country contributors, perhaps not the literary polish found inStoddarts' lectures, but rattling good stuff just the same. "

"See here Driggs, " the other man interrupted, "listen to me. There'san election coming on--you've always been with us--I don't know whatyou think--and it don't matter. This girl Watson is against us--andshe's as smart as they make them, and has plenty of nerve. Now I don'twant to see that girl's name in the paper again. A few more spreadslike this--and every district in the country will want her. She don'tknow her place--she's got nerve enough to speak anywhere. She spitsout things, hardly knowing what she means--she's dangerous, I tellyou. If the other side got hold of her and primed her what to say, shecould do us a lot of harm--here, for mind you, she's got a way withher. We don't want any trouble. There's a little talk of runnin' Doc. Clay, but I believe he's got more sense than to try it. The last manthat ran against me lost his deposit. But, understand, Driggs, nomention of this girl, cut out her name. "

Then Mr. Driggs slowly took his pipe from his mouth, and laid itcarefully on the lowest pile of papers. It's position did not entirelysuit him, and he moved it to another resting place. But the effect wasnot pleasing even then--so he placed it in his pocket, taking a redhandkerchief from his other pocket, and laying it carefully over theelusive pipe, to anchor it--if that were possible. 

"Mr. Steadman, " he said, in his gentlest manner, "sit down. "

Removing an armful of sale bills from the other chair, he shoved itover to his visitor, who ignored the invitation. 

"You must not attempt to muzzel the press, or take away ourblood-bought liberties. Blood-bought liberties is good! It's a seriousmatter to come to a natural born, heaven inspired Editor, and tellhim to curb his news instinct. Pearl Watson is a particular friend ofmine. Pearl's sayings and doings are of interest to me as a citizen, therefore, I reason they are of interest to all citizens. She is ayoung lady of great charm, who does honor to our little town. I standabsolutely for home boosting. Shop at home--shop early--sell yourhammer and buy a horn--my motto! Pearl Watson--one of the best ads wehave--I'm for her. "

"All right, " said Mr. Steadman harshly, "you defy me then, and whenyou defy me, you defy the Government of the Province, the arm of theGovernment reaches far--Driggs, and you know that before you are done, I'll put you out of business before two weeks have gone by. You oweevery one--you owe the paper people--you owe on your printing press. Your creditors are all friends of the Government. All I have to do isto say the word and they'll close you out. The Government will put aman in here who has sense enough to do as he is told. "

Mr. Driggs' faced showed more concern than he had exhibited before. There were certain bills he owed--forgotten to be sure in normaltimes--but now they came up blinking to the light, rudely disinterredby Mr. Steadman's hard words. They had grown, too, since their lastappearance, both in size and numbers--and for a moment a shade ofannoyance went over his face. Details of business always did annoyhim!

But an inner voice cautioned him to be discreet. There was always away around a difficulty. Mr. Driggs believed in the switch systemwhich prevails in our railroading. When two trains run towards eachother on a track one must go off on a switch, to avoid a collision. Itdoes not take long and when the other train has gone roaring past, theswitched train can back up and get on the track and go serenely on--heresolved to be tactful. 

"Mr. Steadman, " he said, "I am surprised at all this. Pearl is only aslip of a girl. What harm can she do you? You are absolutely solid inthis neighborhood. The government has this country by the throat--theold machine works perfectly. What are you afraid of?"

"We're not afraid--what have we to be afraid of? We have only sixteenopposition members in the House--and they're poor fish. We're solidenough--only we don't want trouble. The women are getting all stirredup and full of big notions. We can hold them down all right--for theycan't get the vote until we give it to them--that's the beauty of it. The Old Man certainly talked plain when they came there askin' for thevote. He just laid them out. But I can see this girl has been at theirmeetings--and women are queer. My women, even, thought there was a lotof truth in what the Watson girl said. So there was--but we're notdealing with truth just now--politics is not a matter of truth. Wewant to get this election over without trouble. We want no grief overthis, mind you--everything quiet--and sure. So you got your ordersright now. Take them or leave them. But you know where your bread isbuttered, I guess. "

Mr. Steadman went out of the office, shutting the door with a stronghand. The editor buried his face in his hands and gently massaged histemples with his long-ink-stained fingers, and to all appearance, hissoul was grieved within him. It seemed as though his proud spirit waschafing at the bonds which the iniquitous patronage system had laid onhim. 

For brief period he sat thus, but when he raised his head, which hedid suddenly, there was a gleam in his eye and a smile on his facewhich spread and widened until it burst into a laugh which threatenedto dislodge the contents of the table. He threw himself back in hisswing chair and piled both feet on the table, even if there was noroom for them--if ever there had come a time in his history when hewas in the mood to put his feet on the table, that time was now. 

He addressed his remarks to his late guests:

"You fragrant old he-goat, you will give orders to me, will you--youare sure some diplomat--you poor old moth-eaten gander, with yourcow-like duplicity. "

Mr. Driggs could not find the figure of speech which just suited thecase, but he was still trying. 

"You poor old wall-eyed ostrich, with your head in the sand, thinkingno one can see you, you forget that there is a portion of your anatomyadmirably placed--indeed in my mind's eye I can see the sign upon it. It reads 'Kick me. ' It is an invitation I will not decline. He thinkshe can wipe our good friend Pearlie off the map by having her namedropped from the Millford 'Mercury, ' forgetting that there are otherways of reaching the public eye. There are other publications, perhapsnot in the class with the Millford 'Mercury, ' but worthy little sheetstoo. 

"There is the 'Evening Echo, ' struggling along with a circulation ofa quarter of a million--it will answer our purpose admirably. I willwrite the lead today while the lamp of inspiration burns, and I willhear Pearl speak, and then oh, beloved, I will roll up my sleevesand spit on my hands and do a sketch of the New Woman--Pearlie, mychild--this way lies fame. "

CHAPTER IX

THE DOCTOR'S DECISION

When Pearl left him so abruptly, Dr. Clay found himself battlingwith many emotions. His first impulse was to call her back--tell hereverything. Pearl was not a child--she would know what was best. Itwas not fair to deceive her, and that was just what he had done, withthe best intentions. 

But something held him back. The very heart of him was sick and fullof bitterness at the sudden slap which fate had given him. His soulwas still stinging with the pain of it. Everything was distorted andqueer, and in the confusion of sensations the outstanding one was theinstinct to hide all knowledge of his condition. No one must know. Hewould go to see the old doctor and swear him to secrecy. After all, his life was his own--he was under obligation to no one to stretch itout miserably and uselessly. 

He would go on as long as he could, and live it out triumphantly. He would go out like Old Prince. He thought of the hymn which givesthanks to God, "Who kindly lengthens out our days, " and the thoughtof it was mingled with something like scorn. He did not want anylengthening out of his time if there could not be real power, realservice in each day. He would live while he lived, and die when hehad to, and with that resolution he tried to get back his calmness ofspirit. 

Looking at himself in the glass, he had to admit his face was haggard, and thinner than it had been, and he knew he had lost weight. Still, that could be recovered--he was not going to worry or think abouthimself. He had always contended that disease was ninety per cent. Imagination and ten per cent. Reality, and now he was going to see. Every one is under the death sentence; the day is set for each man. "Iam no worse off, " he thought, "than I was before--if I could only seeit that way--and I will--I am going to be the Captain of my soul--eventhough it may be for a very short cruise--no disease or whimperingweakness will usurp my place--'Gladly I lived--gladly I died. And Ilaid me down with a will, '" he quoted, but his mouth twisted a littleon the words. Life was too sweet. He loved it too well to lay it downgladly. O no, there could be no pretence of gladness. 

He found himself thinking of Pearl, and the tender, loving, caressinglight in her eyes, her impulsive kiss--her honest words of heavenlysweetness; what a girl she was! He had watched her grow from a littlebright-eyed thing, who always interested him with her wisdom, hercheerfulness, her devotion to her family, until now, when she hadgrown to be a serious-minded, beautiful girl, with a manner full ofrepose, dignity, grace--a wonderfully attractive girl--who lookedhonestly into his eyes and told him she loved him, and he had had toturn away from his happiness and tell her it could not be. And he hadseen the dimming of those shining eyes and the tightening of her lips. He had had to hurt Pearl, and that was the bitterest thought of all. 

Again the temptation came to tell her! But the stern voice ofconscience cried out to him that if she knew she would considerherself bound to him, and would not take her liberty, and the finestyears of her young life would be spent in anxiety and care. 

"I might live to be an old man, " he said bitterly. "If I were sure Icould drop out soon, it would not matter so much. Pearl would stillhave her life ahead of her, and I would come to be but a memory, butas it is--there's but one straight and honorable course--and I willtake it. "

Then he thought of the roses, and wrote a card and a note, and calledBertie at the Livery Stable to come to the office. When Bertiearrived, much out of breath, the doctor charged him to be quick in hiserrand of delivering them. Bertie was anxious to talk, and volunteeredthe information that Pearl Watson was an awful pretty girl, but Mrs. Crocks had just met her on the street and been talkin' to her a littlewhile, and she thought Pearl was gettin' pretty stuck up. 

"Bertie, dear, " the doctor said, not unkindly, "did any one ever tellyou that you talk too easy?"

"Sure they did, " said Bertie honestly, "but Mrs. Crocks likes me totalk. "

"O well, " the doctor smiled, "you and Mrs. Crocks are not reallydangerous--but Bertie, remember this, silence does not often get anyone into trouble, and if you are ever in doubt about whether to tellthings or not--don't tell them! It's the best way--now, will you tryto remember?"

"Yes, sir, " said Bertie pleasantly. 

All of which Bertie carefully hid in his heart, but his object in sodoing was not to attain the scriptural sequence--"that he sin notwith his mouth, " It was that he might rehearse it accurately to Mrs. Crocks!

The doctor had forgotten all about the committee who were going towait on him that evening to receive his decision regarding the comingelection. His mind had been too full of his own affairs. But promptlyat eight o'clock, his office bell rang, and the gentlemen came in. 

It seemed years to the doctor since he had seen them. Life had sochanged for him in the interval. The committee had come back withgreater enthusiasm than ever. Corroborative evidence had been pouringin; the doctor was the only man who could defeat the present member. 

"Doctor, it is sure up to you, " said the President, a stocky man, whose face had a patchy beard resembling a buffalo-robe on which themoths had played their funny tricks, "and I'll tell you why. The womenare beginning to raise hell all over the country. They have societiesnow, and they're holding debates, and getting up plays--and all that. They have the Government scared. My stars, I remember the time womendidn't bother no more about politics than a yellow dog does aboutreligion. But that good day is gone. They're up and comin' now, andcomin' with a whoop. Now, that's why we want you, --at least it's onereason--the women like you--you have a way with them--you listen tothem--and feel sorry over their aches and pains--cure them--if youcan--but the big thing is--you feel sorry. Now, if you will run, thewomen will try to make their men vote for you--I don't think any oneof the women will go against you. The men here are mostly for theGovernment, and this year they have the bridge at Purple Springs fora bait. It's goin' on for sure--work for every one--that votes right. The Government has been in so long, you've just had to be on theirside to hold your job--they have their fingers on everything. You knowour candidate has lost his deposit for three elections--but there's achance this year--if you'll run. "

Then the field organizer took up the argument. He was a young man sentout from the city office to rally the faithful and if possible seethat the best candidates were selected. He was a shop-worn young man, without illusions. He knew life from every angle, and it was a dullaffair in his eyes. 

"Politics is a game of wits, " he said; "the smartest one wins, andgets in and divides the slush money. The other side howl--because theydidn't get any. We're sore now because we haven't had a look-infor fourteen years--we're thirsty and dry--and we long for thewater-brooks--which is, government jobs. There's just one distinctionbetween the parties, " he said, "one is in and one is out! That's all. Both parties have the same platform too, there is only one principleinvolved, that is the principle of re-election. But it really seems asif our time is coming. "

Young Mr. Summersad lighted a cigarette and blew billows of smoke atthe ceiling. His whole bearing was that of a man who had drunk the cupof life to the very dregs and found even the dregs tasteless and pale. 

"You are pessimistic, " said the doctor, "you surely take amaterialistic view of the case. Is it really only a matter of gettingin to the public treasury? That hardly seems worth a man's effort; itlooks more like a burglar's job. "

"I mean, Clay, " said the organizer, with slightly more animation, "thepolitical game is not a game of sentiment or of high resolves. One mancannot do much to change the sentiment of a whole province; we musttake things as we find them. People get as good government as theydeserve--always. This year the advantage comes to us. 'It is time fora change' is always a good rallying cry, and will help us more thananything. "

"What is the opposition platform this year, " said the doctor, "whatwould I have to believe? Haven't you decided on a program, some sortof course of action?"

"O sure, " replied the other, "we have a great platform--womansuffrage--banish the bar--direct legislation--we have a radicalplatform--just the very thing to catch the people. I tell youeverything is in our favor, and with your popularity here, it shouldbe a cinch. "

The doctor looked at him, without enthusiasm. 

"But the platform needn't worry you, " he hastened to explain, "it'snot necessarily important--it's a darn good thing to get in on--butafter that--"

"It can be laid away, " said the doctor, "for another election. Wellnow, as I understand it, the case against the present Government isjust that. They promised prohibition years ago, and got in on thatpromise--but broke it joyously, and canned the one man who wanted tostand for it--that's why they deserve defeat and have deserved it allthese years. But if the Opposition have the same ethics, what's theuse of changing. Better keep the robbers in we know, than fly toothers that we know not of. "

While the organizer had been speaking, the remainder of the committeewere vaguely uncomfortable. He was not getting anywhere; he wasspoiling everything. They knew the doctor better than he did. 

The doctor stood up, and there was something about the action whichannounced the adjournment of the meeting. 

"It does not appeal to me, " he said, "not as outlined by you. It'stoo sodden, too deeply selfish. I see no reason for any man who has afairly decent, self-respecting job, to give it up and devote his timeto politics, if you have given me a correct picture of it. "

The organizer became deeply in earnest:--

"Look here, Clay, " he said, "don't be hasty. I'm telling you the truthabout things, that's all. You can be as full of moral passion asyou like--the fuller the better. The Opposition can always be theSimon-pure reformers. I'm not discouraging you--in fact, we want youto be that. "

The doctor interrupted him, impatiently:--

"But I must not expect anything to come of it. Moral reform--and allthat--is fine for election dope, but governments have no concern withit, these promises would not be carried out. "

"I am not saying what we mean, " said Mr. Summersad, with abundantcaution; "I say we want to defeat the Government--that's our business. We want to get in--further than that we have no concern. The newPremier will set our policy. But if you ask me my opinion, I do notmind telling you that I don't think any government of men are verykeen on letting the women vote--why should they be? But there's alwaysa way out. What will happen is this--if our fellows get in, they willgrant a plebiscite, men only voting of course, and it will go strongagainst the women--but that will let us out. "

The doctor's eyes snapped:--

"That's surely a coward's way out, " he said, "and why should any womanhave to ask for what is her right. Women, although they are not sostrong as men, do more than half the work, and bear children besides, and yet men have been mean enough to snatch the power away from themand keep it. Well, you have certainly been frank, Mr. Summersad, Imust thank you for that. I will be equally frank. I do not seethat there is anything to choose between the two parties. If yourpresentation of the case is correct, the country is in a bad way, andthe political life is a re-incarnation of that fine old game of 'pussywants a corner!' I never did see much in it, so I will declinethe nomination. I am sorry, Mr. Gilchrist, " he said to the localPresident. His words had a ring of finality. 

When the committee were leaving they met Miss Keith, of Hampton, onthe street. Miss Keith was worth looking at, with her white fox furs, high-heeled shoes and long black ear-rings. Miss Keith carried a muffas big as a sheaf of wheat, and a sparkling bead-bag dangled from herwrist. Miss Keith's complexion left nothing to be desired. When shepassed the committee there came to them the odor of wood violets. Thecommittee were sufficiently interested to break into a group on thecorner and so be able to turn around and watch her, without appearingto stop for that purpose. 

She went into the doctor's office. 

"By gum, " said the President, looking at the door through which shehad disappeared, "don't these women beat all? They go where theylike--they do as they like--they wear what they like--they don't carewhat men think, any more. They're bold--that's what they are! and Idon't know as I believe in lettin' them vote--By Gosh!"

The organizer raised his hand in warning, and spoke sternly. 

"Hold your tongue, " he said, "they're a long way from votin'. Believewhat you like--no one cares what you believe--but sit tight on it! Italked too much just now. Let's learn our lesson. "

Bertie, whose other name was now lost in oblivion, and who was knownas "Bertie Crocks" for purposes of identification, standing at thecorner of the "Horse Repository, " saw Miss Keith entering the doctor'soffice, and wondered again how any one ever thought a small town dull. 

CHAPTER X

THE WOMAN WITH A SORE THOUGHT

The turning of a key; the opening of a door, are commonplace sounds tomost of us; but to a prisoner, weary of his cell, they are sounds ofunspeakable rapture. The dripping of a tap, may have in it the elementof annoyance--if we have to get up and shut it off before we can getto sleep, but a thirsty traveller on the burning sands of the desert, would be wild with joy to hear it. All which is another way of sayingthat everything in life is relative. 

On the day that Pearl spoke in the school-house, there sat in one ofthe seats listening to her, a sombre-faced woman, who rarely came toany of the neighborhood gatherings. The women of the neighborhood, having only the primary hypothesis of human conduct, said she was"proud. " She did not join heartily in their conversations when theymet her, and had an aloofness about her which could only be explainedthat way. She had a certain daintiness about her, too, in her way ofdressing--even in the way she did her hair--and in her walk, whichmade the women say with certain resentment, that Mrs. Paine would liketo be "dressy. "

But if Mrs. Paine had any such ambitions, they were not likely to beachieved, for although she and her husband had lived for years in thisfavored district, and had had good crops, Sylvester Paine was knownall over the country as a hard man. The women would have liked Mrs. Paine much better if she had talked more, and complained abouthim--she was too close-mouthed they said. They freely told each other, and told her, of their hopes, fears, trials and triumphs--but Mrs. Paine's communications were yea and nay when the conversation was onpersonal matters, and she had a way of closing her lips which somehowprevented questions. 

But on the day when Pearl spoke in the school Mrs. Paine's faceunderwent a change which would have interested a student of humannature. Something which had been long dead, came to life again thatday; fluttering, trembling, shrinking. In her eyes there came againthe dead hopes of the years, and it made her face almost pitiful inits trembling eagerness. There was a dull red rage in her eyes toothat day, that was not good to see, and she was determined that itshould not be seen, and for that reason, she slipped away when Pearlwas through, leaving some excuse about having the chores to do. Shecould not bear to speak to the women and have them read her face; sheknew it would tell too much. But she must talk to Pearl. There werethings that Pearl could tell her. 

That night she called Pearl on the phone. The other receivers camedown quickly, and various homely household sounds mingled in herears--a sewing-machine's soft purring in one house--a child's cry inanother--the musical whine of a cream separator in a third. She knewthey were all listening, but she did not care. Even if she could notcontrol her face, she could control her voice. 

When Pearl came to the phone, Mrs. Paine invited her to come over forsupper the next night, to which Pearl gave ready acceptance--and thatwas all. The interested listeners were disappointed with the brevityof the conversation, and spoke guardedly and in cipher to each otherafter Pearl and Mrs. Paine had gone: "Somebody is away, see! That'swhy! Gee! some life--never any one asked over only at such times--Gee!How'd you like to be bossed around like that?"

"She did not begin right--too mealy-mouthed. Did you hear what he'sgoing to buy? No! I'll tell you when I see you--we've too big anaudience right now. Don't it beat all, the time some people have tolisten in--"

"O well, I don't care! Anything I say I'm ready to back up. I don'tpretend I forget or try to twist out of things. "

One receiver went up here, and the sound of the sewing-machine wentwith it. 

Then the conversation drifted pleasantly to a new and quicker way ofmaking bread that had just come out in the "Western Home Monthly. "

The next evening Pearl walked over the Plover Slough to see Mrs. Paine. She noticed the quantity of machinery which stood in the yard, some under cover of the big shingled shed, and some of it sitting outin the snow, gray and weather-beaten. The yard was littered, untidy, prodigal, wasteful--every sort of machine had evidently been boughtand used for a while, then discarded. But within doors there was abareness that struck Pearl's heart with pity. The entrance at thefront of the house was banked high with snow, and evidently had notbeen used all winter, and indeed there seemed no good reason for itsever being used, for the front part of the house, consisting of hall, front room opening into a bed-room, were unfurnished and unheated. 

Mrs. Paine was genuinely, eagerly glad to see Pearl, and there was atense look in her eyes, an underglow of excitement, a trembling of herhands, as she set the table, that did not escape Pearl. 

But nothing was said until the children had gone to bed, and then Mrs. Paine departed from her life-long habit of silence, and revealed toPearl the burdens that were crushing her. 

She was a thin woman, with a transparency about her that gave her theappearance of being brittle. Her auburn hair curled over her whiteforehead, and snakily twisted around her ivory white ears. Her eyeswere amber-brown, with queer yellow lights that rose and fell asshe talked, and in some strange way reminded Pearl of a piece ofbird's-eye maple. She was dressed in the style of twenty years before, with her linen collar inside the high collar of her dress, which wasfastened with a bar pin, straight and plain like herself. In thecentre of the pin was a cairn-gorm, which reflected the slumberingyellow light in her eyes. The color of her face was creamy white, likefine stationery. 

"I thought all my hopes were dead, Pearl, " she said with dry lips, "until you spoke, and then I saw myself years ago, when I came out ofschool. Life was as rosy and promising, and the future as bright to methen as it is to you now. But I got married young--we were brought upto think if we did not get married--we were rather disgraced, and inour little town in Ontario, men were scarce--they had all come West. So when I got a chance, I took it. "

Pearl could see what a beautiful young girl she must have been, whenthe fires of youth burned in her eye--with her brilliant coloringand her graceful ways. But now her face had something dead aboutit, something missing--like a beautifully-tiled fireplace with itspolished brass fittings, on whose grate lie only the embers of a firelong dead. 

Pearl thought of this as she watched her. Mrs. Paine, in heragitation, pleated her muslin apron into a fan. 

The tea-kettle on the stove bubbled drowsily, and there was no soundin the house but the purring of the big cat that lay on Pearl's knee. 

"Life is a funny proposition, Pearl, " continued Mrs. Paine, "I oftenthink it is a conspiracy against women. We are weaker, smaller thanmen--we have all the weaknesses and diseases they have--and then someof our own. Marriage is a form of bondage--long-term slavery--forwomen. "

Pearl regarded her hostess with astonished eyes. She had always knownthat Mrs. Paine did not look happy; but such words as these came as ashock to her romantic young heart. 

"It isn't the hard work--or the pain--it isn't that--it's theuselessness of it all. Nature is so cruel, and careless. See how manyseeds die--nature does not care--some will grow--the others do notmatter!"

"O you're wrong, Mrs. Paine, " Pearl cried eagerly; "it is not truethat even a sparrow can fall to the ground and God not know it. "

Mrs. Paine seemed about to speak, but checked her words. Pearl'sbright face, her hopefulness, her youth, her unshaken faith in God andthe world, restrained her. Let the child keep her faith!

"There is something I want to ask you, Pearl, " she said, after a longpause. "You know the laws of this Province are different from whatthey are in Ontario. "

Her voice fell, and the light in her eyes seemed to burn low, likenight-light, turned down. 

"He says, " she did not call her husband by name, but Pearl knew whowas meant, "he says that a man can sell all his property here withouthis wife's signature, and do what he likes with the money. He wants tosell the farm and buy the hotel at Millford. I won't consent, but hetells me he can take the children away from me, and I would have to gowith him then. He says this is a man's country, and men can do as theylike. I wonder if you know what the law is?"

"I'm not sure, " said Pearl. "I've heard the women talking about it, but I will find out. I will write to them. If that is the law it willbe changed--any one could see that it is not fair. Lots of these oldlaws get written down and no one bothers about them--and they juststay there, forgotten--but any one would see that was not fair, 'Menwould not be as unjust as that'!"

"You don't know them", said Mrs. Paine; "I have no faith in men. They've made the world, and they've made it to suit themselves. Myhusband takes his family cares as lightly as a tomcat. The childrenannoy him. "

She spoke in jerky sentences, often moistening her dry lips, and therewas something in her eyes which made Pearl afraid--the very air of theroom seemed charged with discords. Pearl struggled to free her heartfrom the depressing influence. 

"All men are not selfish, " she said, "and I guess God has done thebest He could to be fair to every one. It's some job to make millionsof people and satisfy them all. "

"Well, the Creator should take some responsibility, " Mrs. Paineinterrupted, "none of us asked to be born--I'm not God, but I takeresponsibility for my children. I did not want them, but now they arehere I'll stand by them. That's why I've stayed as long as this. ButGod does not stand by me. "

Her voice was colorless and limp like a washed ribbon. It had in it noanger, just a settled conviction. 

"See here, Mrs. Paine, " began Pearl, "you've been too long alone inthe house. You begin to imagine things. You work too hard, and nevergo out, and that would make an archangel cross. You've just got to mixup more with the rest of us. Things are not half so black as they lookto you. "

"I could stand it all--until he said he could take away my home, " thewords seemed to come painfully. "I worked for this, " she said, "andthough it's small and mean--it's home. Every bit of furniture in thishouse I bought with my butter money. The only trees we have I planted. I sowed the flowers and dug the place to put them. While he is awaybuying cattle and shipping them, and making plenty of money--all forhimself--I stay here and run the farm. I milk, and churn, and cook forhired men, and manage the whole place, and I've made it pay too, buthe has everything in his own name. Now he says he can sell it and takethe money.... Even a cat will fight and scratch for its hay-loft. "

"Oh well, " said Pearl, "I hope you won't have to fight. Fighting isbad work. It's a last resort when everything else fails. Mr. Paine canbe persuaded out of the hotel business if you go at it right. He doesnot understand, that's all. That's what causes all the misery andtrouble in life--it is lack of understanding. "

Mrs. Paine smiled grimly: "It's good to be young, Pearl, " she said. 

After a while she spoke again: "I did not ask you over entirely forselfish reasons. I wanted to talk to you about yourself; I wanted towarn you, Pearl. "

"What about!" Pearl exclaimed. 

"Don't get married, " she said; "Oh don't, Pearl, I can't bear to thinkof you being tied down with children and hard work. It's too big arisk, Pearl, don't do it. We need you to help the rest of us. When Ilistened to you the other day I came nearer praying than I have formany years. I said, 'Oh, Lord, save Pearl, ' and what I meant was thatHe should save you from marriage. You'll have lots of offers. "

"None so far, " laughed Pearl, "not a sign of one. "

"Well, you'll get plenty--but don't do it, Pearl. We need you to talkfor us. "

"Well, couldn't I talk if I were married?" asked Pearl, "I have heardmarried women talk. "

"Not the same; they haven't the heart. People cannot talk if theirown hearts are sore. That's why we want to keep you light-hearted andcarefree. I wish you would promise me, Pearl, that you won't marry. "

Pearl hesitated, hardly knowing how to meet this. 

"That's asking a lot, Mrs. Paine. Every girl hopes to marry sometime, " she said, at last, and if the light had been better Mrs. Painewould have seen the color rising in Pearl's cheeks; "And you are wrongin thinking that all men are mean and selfish. My father is not. We'vebeen poor and all that, but we're happy. My father has never shirkedhis share of the work, and he has only one thought now, and that is todo well for us. There are plenty of happy marriages. I--can't promisenot to but there's no danger yet--I have no notion of it. "

"All right, Pearl, " said Mrs. Paine, "keep away from it. Some way Ican't bear to think of you tied down with a bunch of kids, and allyour bright ways dulled with hard work and worry. Well, anyway, you'lltalk about it--about the vote I mean. "

"All the time, " Pearl laughingly responded. "Wherever two or threegather Pearl Watson will rise and make a few remarks unless some oneforcibly restrains her. I will promise that--that's easy. "

When Pearl walked home that night the moon was trying to shine througha gray rag of a cloud that was wrapped around its face. The snow onthe road caught the muffled rays of light, and she could see her wayquite well after her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. There wasa close, protecting feeling about the gray darkness that suited hermood. It was a comfortable, companionable night, with a soft air fullof pleasant sounds of dogs barking, and sleigh-bells, and with thelights in the neighbors' houses for company. Pearl was not consciousof fear. All her life she had gone about in the night as fearlessly asby day. 

Mrs. Paine's words troubled her. Was it possible life could be as dulland drab a thing as it seemed to her. Perhaps, though, she had neverbeen in love! She had married because she did not want to be an oldmaid. Only love can redeem life from its common-place monotony. Maybethat was why things had gone wrong. 

She thought about Mrs. Paine's words about being tied down withchildren and hard work, and how she had pleaded with her to be warned!Pearl tried to make the warning real and effective--tried to hardenher heart and fill it with ambitions, in which love and marriage hadno place. She tried to tell herself it was her duty to never marry;she would be free to work for other women. She tried to think of afuture apart from marriage, apart from the hopes and dreams that hadbeen so dear and sweet. Could it be that she was being called of Godto be a leader in a new crusade against injustice? Was it her part tospeak for other women? Since the day she spoke in the school therehad been a glowing wonder in her heart which told her she could movepeople to higher thinking and nobler action. She had seen it in theireyes that day. She had seen the high resolve in their faces, seen it, and been glad and fearful too. Was it possible that God was callingher to declare a message to the people, and could it be that it wasfor this reason her sweet dreams had been so suddenly broken?

Pearl stopped in the road in her agitation of spirit, as thepossibility of this surged over her. Every sound seemed to have diedaway, not a dog barked or a tree creaked in the gray darkness whichshrouded the world. Even the lights in the houses seemed to hold asteady gleam, without as much as winking an eye--waiting for heranswer. 

The whole world seemed to be holding its breath expectantly, in awaiting, quivering silence. It was as if her name had been called; thecurtain had rolled up, and a great audience waited. 

A sudden, helpless feeling set her heart beating painfully into herthroat, a smothering sense of fear, quite new to her, who had neverknown fear. 

"I can't do it!" broke from her, in a cry; "Don't ask me, Lord, Ican't! I can't do it alone--but give me the desire of my heart, oh, Lord, and I will never tremble or turn back or be afraid. I willdeclare the truth before kings!"

CHAPTER XI

ENGAGED

The trustees of Purple Springs School had reached the climax of theirprofessional duties. They were about to appoint a teacher, and beingconscientious men, anxious to drive a good bargain for the people, they were proceeding with deep caution to "look around. "

Looking at the modest equipment of Purple Springs School, the observerwould wonder why such stress was laid on the teacher's qualifications. The schoolhouse was a bleak little structure of wood, from whose wallsthe winds and rain had taken the paint. It was set in an arid field, that knew no tree or flower. Its three uncurtained windows threw amerciless light on the gray floor and smoked walls. 

Former teachers had tried to stir the community to beautify thegrounds and make the inside more homelike, but their efforts had beenfitful and without result. Trees died, seeds remained in the ground, and gray monotony reigned at Purple Springs. Still, the three trusteesbelieved it was an enviable position they had in their hands tobestow, and were determined that it should not be given lightly. 

Just at the time that they were hard engaged in "lookin' 'round, " thesecretary's wife came back from a visit to Chicken Hill, and toldabout Pearl Watson, who had been to the city and come back "quite agirl, " able to talk, and just as nice and friendly as ever. Mrs. Cowanwas not well read in the political situation of the day, and so didnot know that Pearl had been guilty of heretical utterances againstthe Government. 

If this had been known to the trustees her candidature would not havebeen considered, for all of the trustees were supporters and believersin the Government--and with reason. Mr. Cowan had a telephone linebuilt expressly for him; Mr. Brownlees had been given a ditch--justwhere he wanted it, digging it himself, and been paid for it by theGovernment; the third trustee had been made game warden, at a monthlysalary and no duties; so naturally they would like not to hear theirfriends criticized. Mrs. Cowan only read newspapers to see thebargains, crotchet patterns, and murders, and after that, she believedtheir only use was to be put on pantry shelves. So her account ofPearl's address was entirely without political bias. 

"She's a fine looking girl, " said Mrs. Cowan, "and it's nice to hearher talk, even if she isn't saying anything. She's brown-eyed, tall, and speaks out plain so every one can hear, and what she says is nottoo deep--and you'd never know she was educated, to hear her talk. "

The three trustees resolved to look into the case. Being masters ofduplicity, they decided to call on Miss Watson at her home, and to goin the early morning hours, believing that the misty light of 8 a. M. Will reveal many things which the glare of high noon might hide. Theywould see first would she be up? They had once had a teacher who layin bed the whole day on Saturday. Would she have her hair combed? Theywere not keen on artistic effects in the school buildings, but were aunit on wanting a tastefully dressed teacher. It was decided that thecall would be early and unannounced. 

They found Pearl in a pink and white checked gingham house dress, withher brown hair done up in the style known as a French roll, sewingat a machine in the front room, and at once Mr. Cowan, who was thedominant spirit of the party signalled to the others--"So far sogood. " Miss Watson, even though the hour was early, was up, dressedneatly--and at work. All of this was in the glance which Mr. Cowanshot over to his colleagues. 

Investigating still further, for Mr. Cowan knew the value of detail inestimating human character; the general arrangement of the room wonhis approval. It was comfortable, settled, serene--it looked likehome--it invited the visitor to come in and be at rest. A fire burnedin the heater, a bird sang in the kitchen, a cat lay on the lounge anddid not move when he sat down beside it, showing that its right of wayhad not been disputed. Mr. Cowan saw it all. 

After the introductions were over, Mr. Cowan put forth some questionsabout her qualifications, and at each answer, his colleagues weregiven to understand by a faint twitter of his eyes that Miss Watsonwas still doing well. 

"You're young of course, " said Mr. Cowan, with the air of a man whofaces facts--but his natural generosity of spirit prompted him to add"but you'll get over that, and anyway a girl is older in her ways thana boy. "

"We measure time by heart-beats, " said Pearl, as she handed him aflowered cushion to put behind his head, "not by figures on a dial. "

She tossed it off easily, as if poetry were the language of every daylife to her. 

Mr. Cowan shut one eye for the briefest space of time, and across theroom his two friends knew Miss Watson's chances were growing brighterevery minute. "My wife happened to be down at Chicken Hill the day youspoke, and she said you sure did speak well, for a girl, and shewas hopin' you'd speak at our school some night--and we could get aphonograph to liven things up a bit--I guess we're broad-minded enoughto listen to a woman. "

Mr. Cowan's confidence in his companions was amply justified. Theynodded their heads approvingly, like men who are willing to tryanything once. 

"Well, you see, " Mr. Cowan went on, "we have a nice district, MissWatson. We're farmer people, of course, with the exception of the fewwho live at the station; we're farmers but we're decent people--andwe're pretty well-to-do farmers--we have only one woman in thedistrict--that we sort of wish wasn't there. "

"Why, " asked Pearl quickly. 

"Well you see, she got in first, so to speak. She bought the farmbeside the river, and it was her that called the place 'PurpleSprings. ' It's an outlandish name, but it seems to kind a' stick. There's no springs at all, and they are certainly not purple. But shemade the words out of peeled poplar poles, with her axe, and put themup at the front of her house, facin' the track, and the blamed wordsstick. Mind you, she must have spent months twistin' and turnin' thempoles to suit her and get the letters right, and she made a rusticfence to put them on. They're so foolish you can't forget them. She'squeer, that's all--and she won't tell who she is, nor where she camefrom--and she seems to have money. "

Pearl looked at him inquiringly. There must be more than that to thestory, she thought. 

"The women will tell you more about her--that's sure. They gabble alot among themselves about her--I don't know--we think it best toleave her alone. No woman has any right to live alone the way shedoes--it don't look well. "

"Well, anyway, " Mr. Cowan spoke hurriedly, as one who has beenbetrayed into trifling feminine matters, and is anxious to get back toman's domain, "we'll take you--at seventy-five dollars a month, andI guess you can get board at Mrs. Zinc's here at about fifteen. Thatain't bad wages for a girl your age. You can stay at Mrs. Zinc'sanyway till you look around--Mrs. Zinc don't want a boarder. Girls canfit in any place--that's one reason in our neighborhood we like a girlbetter--there's no trouble about boardin' them. They can always managesomehow. Even if things ain't very good--it don't seem to phazethem--same as a man. We had a man once, and we had to pay himtwenty-five dollars a month extra, and gosh--the airs of him--wanteda bed to himself and a hot dinner sent to the school. By Gum! and gotit! We'll be lookin' for you at the middle of the month, and you canstay at Mrs. Zinc's and look around. "

When the delegation had departed, Pearl acquainted her mother with theresult of their visit. Mrs. Watson had retired to the kitchen, all ofa flutter, as soon as the visitors came. 

"I'm going to Purple Springs, Ma, " she said, "to take the school, andthey'll give me seventy-five dollars a month. "

Mrs. Watson sat down, dramatically, and applied her print apron to hereyes--an occasion had come, and Mrs. Watson, true to tradition, wouldmake the most of it. Her mother had cried when she left home--it was agirl's birthright to be well cried over--Pearlie Watson would not goforth unwept!

"Cheer up, Ma, " said Pearl kindly, "I'm not going to jail, and I'm nottaking the veil or going across the sea. I can call you up for fifteencents, and I'll be bringing you home my washing every two weeks--so Iwill not be lost entirely. "

Mrs. Watson rocked herself disconsolately back and forth in her chair, and the sound of her sobs filled the kitchen. Mrs. Watson was having agood time, although appearances would not bear out the statement. 

"It's the first break, Pearlie, that's what I'm thinkin'--and everynight when I lock the door, I'll be lockin' you out--not knowin' whereye are. When a family once breaks you never can tell if they'll everall be together again--that's what frightens me. It was bad enoughwhen you went to the city--and I never slept a wink for two nightsafter you'd gone. But this is worse, for now you're doin' for yourselfand away from us that way. "

"Gosh, Ma, " spoke up Mary, "you sure cry easy; and for queer things. Ithink it's grand that Pearl can get out and earn money, and then whenI get my entrance, I'll go to the city and be a teacher too. You'regoing to get back what you've spent on us, ma, and you ought to be ingreat humor. I'm just as proud of Pearl as I can hold, and I'll betellin' the kids at school about my sister who is Principal of thePurple Springs School. "

"Principal, Assistant and Janitor, " laughed Pearl, "that gives aperson some scope--to be sure. "

Mrs. Watson hurriedly put up the ironing-board, and set to work. Shewould get Pearl ready, though she did it with a heavy heart. 

Pearl finished her sewing and then went upstairs to make her smallwardrobe ready for her departure, and although she stepped quickly andin a determined fashion, there was a pain, a lonely ache in her heartwhich would not cease, a crying out for the love which she had hopedwould be hers. 

"I wonder if I will ever get to be like ma, " she thought, as she linedthe bottom of her little trunk with brown paper, and stuffed tissuepaper into the sleeves of her "good dress, " "I wonder! Well, I hope Iwill be like her in some ways, but not in this mournful stuff--I won'teither. I'll sing when I feel it coming on me--I will not go mourningall my days--not for any one!"

She began to sing:--

 "Forgotten you? Yes, if forgetting Is thinking all the day How the long days pass without you. Days seem years with you away!"

Pearl's voice had a reedy mellowness, and an appeal which sent thewords straight into Mary's practical heart. Mary, washingdishes below, stopped, with a saucer in her hand, and listenedopen-mouthed:--

 "If the warm wish to see you and hear you, And hold you in my arms again, If that be forgetting--you're right, dear, And I have forgotten you then!"

Her voice trailed away on the last line into a sob, and Mary, listening below, dropped a tear into the dish-water. Then racing upthe stairs, she burst into Pearl's room and said admiringly:

"Pearl, you're a wonder. It's an actress you ought to be. You got meblubbering, mind you. It's so sad about you and your beau that's had arow, and both of you actin' so pale and proud, you made me see itall. Sing it again! Well, for the love of Pete--if you ain't ready toblubber too. That's good actin', Pearl--let me tell you--how can youdo it?"

Pearl brushed away the tears, and laughed: "I just hit on the wrongsong--that one always makes me cry, I can see them, too, going theirown ways and feeling so bad, and moping around instead of cutting outthe whole thing the way they should. People are foolish to mope!"Pearl spoke sternly. 

"I think you sing just lovely, " said Mary, "now go on, and I'll getback to the dishes. Sing 'Casey Jones'--that's the best one to washdishes to. It's sad, too, but it's funny. "

Mrs. Watson held the iron to her cheek to test its heat, andlistened--too--as Pearl sang:--

 "Casey Jones--mounted to the cabin, Casey Jones--with the orders in his hand, Casey Jones--mounted to the cabin And took his farewell tri-ip--to the promised land!"

"It's well for them that can be so light-hearted, " she said, "andleave all belonging to them--as easy as Pearl. Children do not know, and never will know what it means, until one of their own ups andleaves them! It's the way of the world, one day they're babies, andthe next thing you know they're gone! It's the way of the world, butit's hard on the mother. "

Pearl came down the stairs, stepping in time with Casey Jones'sspectacular home-leaving:--

 "The caller called Casey, at--a half-past-four, He kissed his wife at the station door. "

"How goes the ironing, honest woman, " she said, as she lovingly pattedher mother's shoulder. "It's a proud old bird you ought to be gettingone of your young robins pushed out of the nest--instead of standinghere with a sadness on your face. "

The mother tried to smile through her tears. 

"Pearlie, my dear, you're a queer girl--you never seem to think ofwhat might happen. It may be six weeks before you can get home--withthe roads breaking up--and a lot can happen in that time. Sure--Imight not be here myself, " she said, with a fresh burst of tears. 

"Ma, you're funny, " laughed Pearl, "I wish you could see how funnyyou are. Every Christmas ever since I can remember, that's what yousaid--you might never live to see another, and it used to nearly breakmy heart when I was little, and until I made up my mind that you werea poor guesser. You said it last Christmas just the same, and hereyou are with your ears back and your neck bowed, heading up well foranother year. You're quite right in saying you may not be here, but ifyou are not you'll be in a better place. Sure, things may happen, butit's better to have things happen than to be scared all the time thatthey may happen. The young lads may take the measles and then themumps, and the whooping-cough to finish up on--and the rosey-posey isgoing around too. But even if they do--it's most likely they will getover it--they always have. Up to the present, the past has taken careof the future. Maybe it always will. "

"O yes, I know there's always a chance things will go wrong--I knowit, Ma--" Pearl's eyes dimmed a little, and she held her lips tighter;"there's always a chance. The cows may all choke to death seeingwhich of them can swallow the biggest turnip--the cats may all havefits--the chickens may break into the hen-house and steal a bag ofsalt, eat it and die. But I don't believe they will. You just have totrust them--and you'll have to trust me the same way. Just look, Ma--"

She took a five-dollar bill from her purse and spread it on theironing-board before her mother. "Fifteen o' them every month! Seethe pictures that's on it, of the two grand old men. See the finechin-whiskers on His Nibs here! Ain't it a pity he can't write hisname, Ma, and him President of the Bank, and just has to make a bluffat it like this. Sure, and isn't that enough to drive any girl out toteach school, to see to it that bank presidents get a chance to learnto write. Bank presidents always come from the country; I'll be havinga row of them at Purple Springs--I'm sure. They will be able to tellin after years at Rotary Club luncheons how they ran barefooted inNovember, and made wheat gum--and chewed strings together. They justlike to tell about their chilblains and their stone-bruises. "

Her mother looked at her wonderingly: "You think of queer things, Pearl--I don't know where you get it--I can't make you out--andthere's another thing troubling me, Pearl. You are goin' away--I don'tsuppose you will be livin' much at home now. You'll be makin' your ownway. "

She paused, and Pearl knew her mother was laboring under heavyemotion. She knew she was struggling to say what was difficult for herto get into words. 

"When you've been away for a while and then come back to us, maybeyou'll find our ways strange to you, for you're quick in the pick-up, Pearl, and we're only plain workin' people, and never had a chance atlearnin'. There may come a time when you're far above us, Pearl, andour ways will seem strange to you. I get worried about it, Pearl, forI know if that time ever comes, it will worry you too, for you're notthe kind that can hurt your own and not feel it. "

Pearl looked at her mother almost with alarm in her face, and thefears that had been assailing her that her family were beyond thesocial pale came back for a moment. But with the fear came afierce tenderness for all of them. She saw in a flash of her quickimagination the tragedy of it from her mother's side, and in her heartthere was just one big, burning, resolute desire, that pain from thissource might never smite her mother's loving heart. The hard hands, the sunburnt face, the thin hair that she had not taken time to carefor; the hard-working shoulders, slightly stooped; the scrawny neck, with its tell-tale lines of age; were eloquent in their appeal. Pearlsaw the contrast of her mother's life and what her own promised tobe, and her tender heart responded, and when she spoke, it was inan altered tone. All the fun had gone from it now, and it was not achild's voice, nor a girl's voice, but a woman's, with all a woman'sgentleness and understanding that spoke. 

"Mother, " she said, "I know what is in your heart, and I will tell youhow I feel about it. You're afraid your ways may seem strange to me. Some of them are strange to me now. I often wonder how any one can beas unselfish as you are and keep it up day in and day out, working forother people. Most of us can make a good stab at it, and keep it upfor a day or so, but to hit the steady pace, never looking back andnever being cross or ugly about it--that's great!"

"And about the other ... If ever there comes a time when an honestheart and a brave spirit in a woman seems strange to me, and I getfeeling myself above them--if I ever get thinking light of honesty andkindness and patience and hard work, and get thinking myself abovethem--then your ways will be strange to me, but not until then!"

Mrs. Watson's face cleared, and a look of pride shone in her eyes. Her face seemed to lose some of its lines, and to reflect some of thelavish beauty of her daughter. 

"You've comforted me, Pearl, " she said simply, "and it's not the firsttime. Whatever comes or goes, Pearl, you'll know we are proud of you, and will stand back of you. Your outspoken ways may get you intotrouble, but we'll always believe you were right. We haven't much togive you--only this. "

"Sure and what more would any one want, leavin' home, " Pearl was backto the speech of her childhood now. "That's better than a fur coat tokeep out the cold, and the thought of my own folks makes me strong toface the world, knowin' I can always come home even if everything elseis closed. That's good enough!"

Pearl kissed her mother affectionately, and went back to her workupstairs, and soon Mary and her mother heard her singing. Mary stoppedscrubbing the kitchen floor, and Mrs. Watson left the iron so long onTeddy's shirt that it left a mark:

 "Say Au Revoir, " sang Pearl, "but not goodbye, The past is dead--love cannot die, T'were better far--had we not met, I loved you then--I love you yet. "

There was something in her voice that made her mother say, "Poorchild, I wonder what's ahead of her. "

CHAPTER XII

THE MACHINE

Seated in one of the billowy tapestry chairs of the Maple Leaf Club, with a mahogany ash-stand at his elbow and the morning paper in hishand, the Cabinet Minister gave an exclamation which began far down inthe throat, tore upward past his immaculate collar, and came forth asa full-sized round word of great emphasis and carrying power. 

It brought to him at once Peter Neelands, one of the ambitious younglawyers of the city, who was just coming into prominence in politicalcircles. 

"What did you say, sir?" Peter asked politely. 

The Cabinet Minister controlled his indignation admirably, and withhis pudgy knuckles rapped the offending newspaper, with the motionused by a carpenter when trying to locate the joist in a plasteredwall, as he said:--

"Here is absolutely the most damnably mischievous thing I have seenfor years, and this abominable sheet is featuring it on the Women'sPage. They will all read it--and be infected. Women are such utterlyunreasonable creatures. This is criminal. "

"What is it, sir?" Peter asked deferentially. 

The older man handed him the paper, and sat back in his chair, withhis fat hands clasped over his rotund person, and an expression ofdeep disgust in his heavy gray eyes. 

"Anything!--anything!--" he cried, "to gain a political advantage. They will even play up this poor little uneducated, and no doubt, mentally unfit country girl, and put in her picture and quotationsfrom her hysterical speeches. They never think--or care--for theeffect this will have on her, filling her head with all sorts ofnotions. This paper is absolutely without a soul, and seems determinedto corrupt the country. And on the Women's Page, too, where they willall read it!"

"By Jove! that was good"--exclaimed the young man, as he read. 

"What was good--are you reading what I gave you to read?" came fromthe older man. 

"Yes, about this girl at Millford, it says: 'In the discussion thatfollowed, the local member heatedly opposed the speaker's argumentsfavoring the sending of women to Parliament, and said when women satin Parliament, he would retire--to which the speaker replied that thiswas just another proof of the purifying effect women would have onpolitics. This retort naturally brought down the house, and the localmember was not heard from again'--terribly cheeky, of course, butrather neat, sir, don't you think?"

The Cabinet Minister took a thick cigar from his vest pocket, withoutreplying. 

"Who is the member from Millford, " he demanded. 

"George Steadman, sir, a big, heavy-set chap--very faithful in hisattendance, sir, absolutely reliable--never talks, but votes right. "

"I don't recall him, " said the great man, after a pause, "but yourdescription shows he's the sort we must retain. "

He lit his cigar, and when it was drawing nicely, removed it from hismouth, and looked carefully at it, as if he expected to find authenticinformation in it regarding private members. Failing this, he put itback in his mouth, and between puffs went on:--

"Let me see--they are wanting a bridge near there, aren't they? on theSouris?"

"Yes sir, at Purple Springs. "

"All right--we ought to be able to hold the fort there with thebridge--but the trouble is, this thing will spread, and when thecampaign warms up, this girl will be in demand. "

He lapsed into silence again. 

Peter, still holding the paper, volunteered:--

"She seems to be one of those infant prodigies who could sing 'TheDying Nun, ' and recite 'Curfew Shall Not Ring Tonight, ' before shecould talk plainly. "

The Cabinet Minister gave no sign that he was listening--mentalagitation was written on his face. 

"But we must head her off some way, I'll admit--I don't mind sayingit--though of course it must not be repeated--these damnable women aremaking me nervous. I know how to fight men--I've been fighting themall my life--with some success. "

"With wonderful success, sir!" burst in Peter. 

The older man threw out his hands in a way that registered modesty. It had in it the whole scriptural injunction of "Let another praisethee--and not thine own mouth. "

"With some success, " he repeated sternly, "but I cannot fight women. You cannot tell what they will do; they are absolutely unreliable;they are ungrateful, too. Many of these women who form the cursedWomen's Club, are women I have been on friendly terms with; so hasthe Chief. We have granted them interviews; we have listened to theirsuggestions; always with courtesy, always with patience. We haveasked them to come back. In certain matters we have acceded to theirrequests--in some unimportant matters--" he added quickly. "But whatis the result? Is there any gratitude? Absolutely none. Give theman inch--they will take a mile. Women are good servants, but badmasters. "

"Don't you think, sir, " said Peter, much flattered by being talked toin this friendly way by the great man, "don't you think it is thesemilitant suffragettes in England who are causing the trouble? Beforethey began their depredations, women did not think of the vote. It isthe power of suggestion, don't you think, and all that sort of thing?"

They were interrupted just then by the arrival of Mr. Banks, one ofthe Government organizers, who, ignoring Peter's presence, addressedhimself to the Cabinet Minister. His manner was full of importance. Mr. Banks had a position in the Public Works Department, andoccasionally might be found there. Sometimes he went in for his mail, and stayed perhaps half an hour. 

He addressed the Cabinet Minister boldly:--

"Did you see this? Looks like trouble, don't it? What do you suggest?"

Mr. Banks did not remove either his hat or his cigar. CabinetMinisters had no terror for him--he had made cabinet ministers. If Mr. Banks had lived in the time of Warwick that gentleman might not havehad the title of "King-Maker. "

"What do you think yourself, " asked the Cabinet Ministerdeferentially, "you know the temper of the country perhaps better thanany of us; shall we notice this girl or just let her go?"

Mr. Banks laughed harshly. 

"We can't stop her, as a matter of fact--she isn't the kind that canbe shut up. There's nothing to her--I've made inquiries. The peoplehave known her since she was born, and ran the country barefooted--sowe can't send her a 'Fly--all is discovered' postcard. It won't work. People all honest--can't get any of them into trouble--and then letthem off--and win her gratitude. This is a difficult case, and theother side will play it up, you bet. The girl has both looks andbrains, and a certain style. She went to the Normal with my girl. Mykid's crazy about her. "

"Do her people need money?" asked Peter; he was learning the innerside of politics. 

His suggestion was ignored until the pause became painful--then theorganizer said severely:--

"Nobody needs money, but every one can use it. But money is of nouse in this case. This has to be arranged by tact. Tact is what fewmembers of the party have; their methods are raw. "

"But there is no harm done yet, " said Peter hopefully, "a few countrypeople in a bally little school-house, and the girl gets up andharangues. She's been to the city, and knows a few catch phrases. There's nothing to it. We wouldn't have known of it--only for theenthusiastic friend who pours his drivel into this paper. "

Mr. Banks looked at Peter in deep contempt. 

"Whoever wrote this does not write drivel, Peter, " he said, with anote of fatigue in his voice. "He has made out a good case for thisgirl. Every one who reads this wants to see her. I want to see her, you want to see her--that's the deuce of it. "

"Well, why don't you go, " said Peter, "or send me? I'd like to go. Perhaps it would be better to send a young man. I often think--"

Mr. Banks looked at him with so much surprise in his usually heavycountenance that Peter paused in confusion. 

"I often think, " he braved the disgust he had evoked, and spokehurriedly to get it said before the other man had withered him withhis eyes; "I often think a young man can get along sometimes--girlswill tell him more, feeling more companionable as it were--" Hepaused, feeling for a convincing climax. 

But in spite of Mr. Banks' scorn of Peter Neelands' efforts at solvingtheir new difficulty, he soon began to think of it more favorably, coming to this by a process known as elimination. No one else wantedto go; he could not think of anything else. Peter would not do anyharm--he was as guileless as a blue-eyed Angora kitten, and above all, he was willing and anxious to get into the game. This would give himan opportunity. So Mr. Banks suddenly made up his mind that he wouldauthorize a cheque to be drawn on the "Funds. " It could easily beentered under "Inspection of Public Bridges, " or any old thing--thatwas a mere detail. 

The Cabinet Minister, who was later acquainted with the plan, and hadby that time recovered his mental composure, almost spoiled everythingby declaring it was a most unwise move, and absolutely unnecessary. 

"Leave her alone, " he declared, as he sipped his whiskey andsoda--"people like that hang themselves if they get enough rope. Whatis she anyway--but an unlearned, ignorant country girl, who has beenin the city and gathered a few silly notions, and when she goes homeshe shows off before her rustic friends. My dear boy, " he addressedPeter now, from an immeasurable distance, "the secret of England'sgreatness consists of letting every damn fool say what he likes, they feel better, and it does no harm. We must expect criticism andcensure--we are well able to bear it, and with our men in everydistrict, there is little to fear. We'll offset any effect there maybe from this girl's ravings by sending the Chief out for one speech. "

The Minister of Public Works lapsed into meditation and drummedpleasantly with his plump, shining hand on the table beside him. Thesweet mellowness which had been Mr. Walker's aim for years, lay on hissoul. The world grew more misty and golden every moment, and in thissunkissed, nebulous haze, his fancy roamed free, released from sordidcares--by Mr. Walker's potent spell. It was a good world--a good worldof true friends, no enemies, no contradiction of sinners or otherdisagreeable people, nothing but ease, praise, power, success, glorious old world, without any hereafter, or any day of accounting. Tears of enthusiasm made dewy his eyes--he loved everybody. 

"The old Chief has a hold on the people that cannot be equalled. Ithought it was wonderful last night at the banquet, the tribute bepaid to his mother. It reveals such a tender side of him, even thoughhe has received the highest honor the people can give him, yet theremembers so tenderly the old home and its associations. That's hisgreat secret of success--he's so human--with faults like other men, but they only make him all the more beloved. He is so tolerant of all. When that poor simpleton stuffed the ballot-box--out somewhere in theBlue Mountains, a really clever piece of work too, wonderfully welldone--with the false bottom--I don't see how they ever discoveredit--but it is hard to deceive the enemy--there's no piece of crookedwork they are not familiar with. He was nearly crazy when they caughthim at it--thought he could be put in jail--he forgot, the poor boob... Who he was working for.... I'll never forget how fine the oldChief allayed his fears--'All for a good cause, my boy, ' he said, inthat jovial way of his, 'I have no fear--the Lord will look after Hisown. ' No wonder he can get people to work for him. It is that heartygood nature of his, and he never preaches to any one, or scolds. Hewas just as kindly to the poor fellow as if he had succeeded. It waswonderful. "

"Great old boy, all right, " Peter agreed heartily. 

That afternoon Mr. Banks arranged with one of the partners of the lawfirm to which Peter was attached to release him for an indefiniteperiod, and his salary could be charged to the Government under"Professional Services, Mr. P. J. Neelands, " and being a fair-mindedman, and persuaded that a laborer was worthy of his hire, he suggesteda substantial increase in salary for Mr. Neelands, considering thedelicate nature of the task he was undertaking, and who was paying forit. 

The spring, notwithstanding its early March smiles, delayed its comingthat year, and the grim facts of the scarcity of feed faced thethriftiest farmers. The hungry cattle grew hungrier than ever, andwith threatening bellows and eyes of flame pushed and crowded aroundthe diminishing stacks. The cattle market went so low that it did notpay to ship them to the city, though humane instincts prompted manya farmer to do this to save their stock from a lingering death, andtheir own eyes from the agony of seeing them suffer. 

On April the first came the big storm, which settled forever the feedproblem for so many hungry animals. It was a deliberate storm, acarefully planned storm, beginning the day before with a warm, softair, languorous, spring-like, with a pale yellow sun, with a cap ofsilver haze around its head, which seemed to smile upon the earth withfairest promises of an early spring. The cattle wandered far fromhome, lured by the gentle air and the mellow sunshine. 

It was on this fair day that Mr. P. J. Neelands took his journey tothe country to do it a service, and it is but fair to say that Mr. Neelands had undertaken his new work with something related toenthusiasm. It savored of mystery, diplomacy, intrigue, and there wasa thrill in his heart as he sat in the green plush-covered seat, and leaning back, with his daintily shod feet on the opposite seat, surveyed himself in the long mirror which filled the door of thestateroom at the end. It was a very smartly dressed young man he saw, smiling back engagingly, and the picture pleased him. Expenses andsalary paid, with a very delightful piece of work before him, which, if handled tactfully and successfully, would bring him what hecraved--political promotion in the Young Men's Club. The fact in theglass smiled again. "Diplomacy is the thing, " said Peter to himself. "It carries a man farther than anything--and I'm glad my first casehas a woman in it. "

He buffed his nails on the palm of his other hand, and, looking atthem critically, decided to go over them again. 

"There's nothing like personal neatness to impress a girl; and thisone, from her picture, will see everything at a glance. "

Crossing the river at Poplar Ridge, he looked out of the window at thepleasant farmyard of one of the old settlers on the Assiniboine; afine brick house, with wide verandahs, an automobile before the door, a barnyard full of cackling hens, with a company of fine fat steersin an enclosure--a pleasing picture of farm life, which filled hisimagination. 

"What a country of opportunity, " thought Peter, "a chance for everyone, and for women especially. Everything in life is done for them. This house was built for some woman, no doubt. I hope she appreciatesit, and is contented and happy in it. Women were made to charmus--inspire us--cheer us, but certainly not to rival us!"

Peter, with his hands on the knees of his well-creased trousers, hitched them slightly, just enough to reveal a glimpse of his lavendersocks. 

"Perhaps this girl needs only an interest--a love interest--" Peterblushed as he thought it--"to quiet her. If her affection werecaptured, localized, centralized, she would not be clamoring to take aman's place. She might be quite willing to enter politics, indirectly, and be the power behind a man of power. "

He looked again at the newspaper picture of Pearl Watson, and again athis own reflection in the long glass. 

"And a girl like this, " Peter meditated, "would be a help, too. She isevidently magnetic and convincing. " His mind drifted pleasantly intothe purple hills and valleys of the future, and in a delightfullyvague way plans began to form for future campaigns, where a brilliantyoung lawyer became at once the delight of his friends and the despairof his enemies, by his scathing sarcasm, his quick repartee, and stillmore by his piercing and inescapable logic. Never had the Conservativebanner been more proudly borne to victory. Older men wept tears of joyas they listened and murmured, "The country is safe--thank God!"

Ably assisting him, though she deferred charmingly to him, in allthings, was his charming young wife, herself an able speaker anddebater who had once considered herself a suffragette, but who was nowentirely absorbed in her beautiful home and her brilliant husband. 

Peter flicked the dust from his tan shoes with a polka-dottedhandkerchief, while rosy dreams, full of ambition and success filledhis impressionable mind. 

Through the snowy hills the train made its way cautiously, making longand apparently purposeless stops between stations, as if haunted bythe fear of arriving too early. At such times Peter had leisure tocarefully study the monotonous landscape, and he could not help butnotice that the disparity in the size of the barn and that of thehouse in many cases was very great. A huge red barn, with whitetrimmings, surmounted by windmills, often stood towering over a tinylittle weather-beaten, miserable house, which across a mile or two ofsnow, looked about the size of a child's block. 

But small houses can be made very cosy, thought Peter complacently, for the glamor of adventure was on him, and no shade of sadness couldassail his high spirits. 

Some of the women who came to the train were disappointing inappearance. They were both shabby and sad, he thought, and he wonderedwhy but looking closely at them he thought, with the fallacy of youth, that they must be very old. 

Peter tried to outline his course of action. He would take a roomat the hotel, making that his headquarters, and go out into thecountry--and stop at the Watson home, to ask directions or on sometrivial errand, and meet her that way. But the thought would come backwith tiresome regularity--suppose the first person who came to thedoor, gave him the directions he wanted--and shut the door. Well, ofcourse he could ask for a drink, ... But even that might fail. Perhapshe should have brought an egg-beater--or a self-wringing mop todemonstrate, or some of the other things his friends had suggested. However, that did not need to be decided at once. Peter prided himselfon his ability to leave tomorrow alone! So he made his way to thehotel on the corner, facing the station, untroubled by what the morrowmight bring forth, and registered his name in the large book which theclerk swung around in front of him, and quietly asked for a room witha bath. 

The clerk bit through the toothpick he had in his mouth, so great washis surprise, but he answered steadily:

"All rooms with bath are taken--only rooms with bed left. "

"Room with bed, then, " said Peter, and he was given the key of No. 17, and pointed to the black and red carpeted stairway. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE STORM

It was a morning of ominous calm, with an hour of bright sun, gradually softening into a white shadow, as a fleecy cloud of fairywhiteness rolled over the sun's face, giving a light on the earth likethe garish light in a tent at high noon, a light of blinding whitenessthat hurts the eyes, although the sun is hidden. It was as innocenta looking morning as any one would wish to see, still, warm, bright, with a heavy brooding air which deadens sound and makes sleighs drawhard and horses come out in foam. 

James Crocks, of the Horse Repository, sniffed the air apprehensively, bit a semi-circle out of a plug of tobacco, and gave orders that nohorse was to leave the barn that day, for "he might be mistaken, andhe might not, " but he thought "we were in for it. "

Other people seemed to think the same, for no teams could be seen onany of the roads leading to the village. It was the kind of morningon which the old timers say, "Stay where you are, wherever it is--ifthere's a roof over you!"

Wakening from a troubled dream of fighting gophers that turned towild-cats, Mr. Neelands, in No. 17, made a hurried toilet, on accountof the temperature of the room, for although the morning was warm, No. 17 still retained some of last week's temperature, and to Mr. Neelands, accustomed to the steam heat of Mrs. Marlowe's "SelectBoarding House--young men a specialty"--it felt very chilly, indeed. But Mr. Neelands had his mind made up to be unmoved by trifles. 

After a good breakfast in the dining room, Mr. Neelands walked out tosee the little town--and to see what information he could gather. Thewell-dressed young man, with the pale gray spats, who carried a caneon his arm and wore a belted coat, attracted many eyes as he swung outgaily across the street toward the livery stable. 

His plans were still indefinite. Bertie, who was in charge of thestable, gazed spell-bound on the vision of fashion which stood at thedoor, asking about a team. Bertie, for once, was speechless--he seemedto be gazing on his own better self--the vision he would like to seewhen he sought his mirror. 

"I would like to get a team for a short run, " said Mr. Neelandspolitely. 

"Where you goin', " asked Bertie. 

Mr. Neelands hesitated, and became tactful. 

"I am calling on teachers, " he said, on a matter of business, "introducing a new set of books for school libraries. "

It was the first thing Mr. Neelands could think of, and he was quitepleased with it when he said it. It had a professional, business-likering, which pleased him. 

"A very excellent set of books, which the Department of Educationdesire to see in every school, " Mr. Neelands elaborated. 

Then Bertie, always anxious to be helpful and to do a good deed, leaptto the door, almost upsetting Mr. Neelands in his haste. Bertie hadan idea! Mr. Neelands did not connect his sudden departure with hisrecent scheme of enriching the life of the country districts with theset of books just mentioned, and therefore waited rather impatientlyfor the stableboy's return. 

Bertie burst in, with the same enthusiasm. 

"See, Mister, here's the teacher you want; I got her for you--she wasjust going to school. "

Bertie's face bore the same glad rapture that veils the countenance ofa cat when she throws a mouse at your feet with a casual "How's that. "

Mr. Neelands found himself facing a brown-eyed, well-dressed younglady, with big question marks in both eyes, question marks which in avery dignified way demanded to know what it was all about. 

In his confusion, Mr. Neelands, new in the art of diplomacy, blundered:

"Is this Miss Watson?" he stammered. 

The reply was definite. 

"It is not, and why did you call me. "

Icicles began to hang from the roof. Mr. Neelands would have beenwell pleased if they had fallen on him, or a horse had kicked him--oranything. 

He blushed a ripe tomato red. Bertie, deeply grieved, reviewed thesituation. 

"He said he wanted to see the teachers, and I just went and gotyou--that's all--you were the nearest teacher. "

"Awfully sorry, " began Mr. Neelands, "I did not know anything aboutit. I'm am just a stranger, you see. "

There was something in Miss Morrison's eye which simply froze thelibrary proposition. He could not frame the words. 

"If you have any business with me you may make an appointment at theschool. People who have business with the teachers generally do cometo the school--not to the livery stable, " she added, in exactly thetone in which she would have said "All who have failed to get fiftyper cent. In arithmetic will remain after four, " a tone which would bedescribed as stern, but just. 

Mr. Neelands leaned against a box-stall as Miss Morrison passed out. He wiped his face with the polka-dot handkerchief, and the word whichthe Cabinet Minister had used came easily to his lips. 

"Why didn't you speak to her when you got a chance?" asked Bertie, anxious to divert the blame and meet railing with railing. He wasalways getting in wrong just trying to help people. Darn it all! Mr. Neelands could still think of no word but the one. 

"I wish it had been Pearl, " said Bertie, "Gee! she wouldn't ha' beenso sore; she'd just laughed and jollied about it. "

"So you know Pearl, do you?" Mr. Neelands could feel a revival ofinterest in life; also the stiffness began to leave his lips, and histongue felt less like tissue paper. 

"I guess everyone knows Pearl, " said Bertie, with a consciousness ofsuperiority on at least one point. Whereupon he again fulfilled thepromises of youth, the leadings of his birth star and the promptingsof his spirit guides, and told all he knew about the whole Watsonfamily, not forgetting the roses he had taken to her, and Mrs. Crock'sdiagnosis of it all. 

He had an interested listener to it all, and under the inspirationwhich a sympathetic hearing gives he grew eloquent, and touched withhis fine fancy the romantic part of it. 

"Mrs. Crocks says she believes Pearl is pretty sweet on the Doctor. Pearl is one swell girl, and all that, but Mrs. Crocks says the Doctorwill likely marry the Senator's daughter. Gee! I wouldn't if I washim. She hasn't got the style that Pearl has--she rides a lot and hasnerve--and all that, but she's bow-legged!" His tone was indescribablyscornful. 

Mr. Neelands gasped. 

"Yep, " went on Bertie complacently, "we see a lot here at the stableand get to know a lot--one way'n another--we can't help it. They comeand go, you know. "

"The doctor won't run for Parliament--he turned it down. Mrs. Crocksthinks the Senator maybe persuaded him not to--the Senator is for theGovernment, of course, and it is the other side wanted the doctor;anyway, that suits old Steadman; he'll likely go in again on accountof the bridge at Purple Springs. Every one wants to get work on itwith the Spring hangin' back the way it is. " "How about a horse? Iwant to take a drive into the country, " said Mr. Neelands. 

"No horse can go out of here today, " answered Bertie. "Mr. Crocks saysthere'll be storm, and he won't take no chances on his horses. He sayspeople can judge for themselves and run risks if they want to, he'lldecide for the horses--and they can't go. "

"O, all right, " said Mr. Neelands. "How far is it to the Watson farm?"

"Are you going out?" asked Bertie. "Better phone and see if she's athome. Here's the phone--I'll get her. "

Mr. Neelands laid a restraining hand on Bertie's arm. "Easy there, my friend, " he said, his tone resembling Miss Morrison's in itscommanding chilliness, "How far is it to the Watson farm?"

"Five miles in summer, four in winter, " Bertie answered a littlesulkily. 

"You would call this winter, I suppose, " said the traveller, lookingout at the darkening street. 

"I'd call it--oh, well, never mind what I'd call it--I'm alwaystalking too much--call it anything you like. " Bertie grew dignifiedand reserved. "Call it the first of July if you like! I don't care. "

That is how it came that Mr. Neelands took the out-trail when all thesigns were against travelling, but to his unaccustomed eye therewas nothing to fear in the woolly grayness of the sky, nor in theoccasional snowflake that came riding on the wind. The roads werehard-packed and swept clean by the wind, and the sensation of spaceand freedom most enjoyable. 

Mr. Neelands as he walked filed away tidily in his mind theinformation received. There were valuable clues contained in thestable-boy's chatter, Which he would tabulate, regarding the ladyof his quest. She was popular, approachable, gifted with a sense ofhumor, and perhaps disappointed in love. No clue was too small to beoverlooked--and so, feeling himself one of the most deadly of sleuths, Mr. Neelands walked joyously on, while behind him there gathered oneof the worst blizzards that the Souris Valley has known. 

The storm began with great blobbery flakes of snow, which cameelbowing each other down the wind, crossing and re-crossing, circling, drifting, whirling, fluttering, so dense and thick that the whole airdarkened ominously, and the sun seemed to withdraw from the world, leaving the wind and the storm to their own evil ways. 

The wind at once began its circling motions, whipping the snowinto the traveller's face, blinding and choking him, lashing himmercilessly and with a sudden impish delight, as if all the evilspirits of the air had declared war upon him. 

He turned to look back, but the storm had closed behind him, havingcome down from the northwest and overtaken him as he walked. His onlyhope was to go with it, for to face it was impossible, and yet itseemed to have no direction, for it blew up in his face; it fell onhim; it slapped him, jostled him, pushed him, roared in his ears, smothering him, drowning his cries with malicious joy. No cat everworried or harrassed a mouse with greater glee than the storm fiendsthat frolicked through the valley that day, took their revenge on thecity man, with his pointed boots, his silk-lined gloves, his beltedcoat and gray fedora, as he struggled on, slipping, choking, fallingand rising. It seemed to him like a terrible nightmare, in its sudden, gripping fury. 

It pounded on his eyeballs until he was not sure but his eyes weregone; it filled his mouth and ears, and cold water trickled down hisback. His gloves were wet through, and freezing, for the air grewcolder every minute, and the terror of the drowning man came to him. He struggled on madly, like a steer that feels the muskeg closingaround him. He did not think; he fought, with the same instinct thatdrives the cattle blindly, madly on towards shelter and food, when thestorm lashes them and the hunger rage drives them on. 

Sylvester Paine, shaking the snow from his clothes like a waterspaniel, and stamping all over the kitchen, was followed by his wife, who vainly tried to sweep it up as fast as it fell. She made noremonstrance, but merely swept, having long since earned that herliege lord was never turned aside from his purpose by any word ofhers. 

When he was quite done, and the snow was melting in pools on thefloor, he delivered his opinion of the country and the weather: "Thisis sure a hell of a country, " he said, "that can throw a storm likethis at the end of March. "

She made no reply--she had not made either the country or the weather, and would not take responsibility for them. She went on wiping up thewater from the floor, with rebellion, slumbering, hidden rebellionin every movement, and the look in her eyes when she turned to thewindow, was a strange blending of rage and fear. 

"Why don't you answer me, " he said, turning around quickly, "Darn you, why can't you speak when your spoken to?"

"You did not speak to me, " she said. "There was nothing for me tosay. "

He looked at her for a moment--her silence exasperated him. She seemedto be keeping something back--something sinister and unknown. 

"Well, I can tell you one thing, " he went on, in a voice that seemedto be made of iron filings, "you may not answer when I speak toyou--you'll do what you're told. I'm not going to slave my life outon this farm when there's easier money to be made. Why should you setyourself above me, and say you won't go into a hotel? I have the rightto decide, anyway. Better people than you have kept hotels, for allyour airs. Are you any better than I am?"

"I hope so, " she said, without raising her eyes from the floor. Sherose quietly and washed out her floorcloth, and stood drying her handson the roller towel which hung on the kitchen door. There was an airof composure about her that enraged him. He could not make it out. Thequality which made the women call her proud kindled his anger now. 

The storm tore past the house, shaking it in its grip like a terriershaking a rat. It seemed to mock at their trivial disputes, and seekto settle them by drowning the sound of them. 

His voice rang above the storm:--

"I'll sell the farm, " he shouted. "I'll sell every cow and horse onit. I'll sell the bed from under you--I'll break you and your stuck-upways, and you'll not get a cent of money from me--not if your tonguewas hanging out. "

The children shrank into corners and pitifully tried to effacethemselves. The dog, with drooping tail, sought shelter under thetable. 

Sylvester Paine thought he saw a shrinking in her face, and followedup his advantage with a fresh outpouring of abuse. 

"There's no one to help you--or be sorry for you--you haven't a friendin this neighborhood, with your stuck-up way. The women are sore onyou--none of them ever come to see you or even phone you. Don't youthink I see it! You've no one to turn to, so you might as well knowit--I've got you!"

His last words were almost screamed at her, as he strove to make hisvoice sound above the storm, and in a sudden lull of the storm, theyrang through the house. 

At the same moment there was a sound of something falling againstthe door and the dog, with bristling hair, ran out from his place ofshelter. 

Mrs. Paine turned quickly to the door and opened it, letting in agust of blinding snow, which eddied in the room and melted on the hotstove. 

A man, covered with snow, lay where he had fallen, exhausted on thedoorstep. 

"What's this, " cried Paine, in a loud voice, as he ran forward; "wheredid this fellow come from?"

In his excitement he asked it over and over again, as if Mrs. Paineshould know. She ventured no opinion, but busied herself in gettingthe snow from the clothes of her visitor and placing him in therocking chair beside the fire. He soon recovered the power of speech, and thanked her gaspingly, but with deep sincerity. 

"This is a deuce of a day for any one to be out, " began the man of thehouse. "Any fool could have told it was going to storm; what drove youout? Where did you come from, anyway?"

Mrs. Paine looked appealingly at him:--

"Let him get his breath, can't you, see, he is all in, " she saidquietly, "he'll tell you, when he can speak. "

In a couple of hours, Peter Neelands, draped in a gray blanket, satbeside the fire, while his clothes were being dried, and rejoicedover the fact that he was alive. The near tragedy of the bright younglawyer found dead in the snow still thrilled him. It had been a closesqueak, he told himself, and a drowsy sense of physical well-beingmade him almost unconscious of his surroundings. It was enough for himto be alive and warm. 

Mrs. Paine moved about the house quietly, and did all she could withher crude means to make her guest comfortable, and to assure him ofher hospitality. She pressed his clothes into shape again, and gavehim a well-cooked dinner, as well served as her scanty supplies wouldallow, asking no questions, but with a quiet dignity making him feelthat she was glad to serve him. There was something in her mannerwhich made a strong appeal to the chivalrous heart of the young man. He wanted to help her--do something for her--make things easier forher. 

The afternoon wore on, with no loosening of the grip of the storm, and Peter began to realize that he was a prisoner. He could have beenquite happy with Mrs. Paine and the children, even though the floorof the kitchen was draughty and cold, the walls smoked, the placedesolate and poor; but the presence of his host, with his insultingmanners, soon grew unbearable. Mr. Paine sat in front of thestove, smoking and spitting, abusing the country, the weather, theGovernment, the church. Nothing escaped him, and everything was wrong. 

A certain form of conceit shone through his words too, which increasedhis listener's contempt. He had made many sharp deals in his time, ofwhich he was inordinately proud. Now he gloated over them. Fifteenthousand dollars of horse notes were safely discounted in the bank, so he did not care, he said, whether spring came or not. He had hismoney. The bank could collect the notes. 

Peter looked at him to see if he were joking. Surely no man with somuch money would live so poorly and have his wife and children soshabbily dressed. Something of this must have shown in his face. 

"I've made money, " cried Sylvester Paine, spitting at the leg of thestove; "and I've kept it--or spent it, just as I saw fit, and I didnot waste is on a fancy house. What's a house, anyway, but a place toeat and sleep. I ain't goin' to put notions into my woman's head, withany big house--she knows better than to ask it now. If she don't likethe house--the door is open--let her get out--I say. She can't takethe kids--and she won't go far without them. "

He laughed unpleasantly: "That's the way to have them, and by gosh!there's one place I admired the old Premier--in the way he roastedthose freaks of women who came askin' for the vote. I don't think muchof the Government, but I'm with them on that--in keepin' the womenwhere they belong. "

"But why, " interrupted Peter, with a very uneasy mind, "why shouldn'twomen have something to say?"

"Are you married?" demanded his host. 

"No, not yet, " said Peter blushing. 

"Well, when you're married--will you let your wife decide where youwill live? How you earn your living--and all that? No sir, I'll betyou won't--you'll be boss, won't you? I guess so. Well, every man hasthat right, absolutely. Here am I--I'm goin' to sell out here and buya hotel--there's good money in it, easy livin'. She--" there was anunutterable scorn in his voice, "says she won't go--says it ain'tright to sell liquor. I say she'll come with me or get out. She mightbe able to earn her own livin', but she can't take the kids. Accordin'to law, children belong to the father--ain't that right? There's a mancomin' to buy the farm--I guess he would have been out today, only forthe storm. We have the bargain made--all but the signin' up. "

Mrs. Paine stood still in the middle of the floor, and listened interror. "A man coming to buy the farm!" Every trace of color left herface! Maybe it was not true. 

He saw the terror in her face, and followed up his advantage. 

"People have to learn to do as they're told when I'm round. No one candefy me--I'll tell you that. Every one knows me--I can be led, but Icant be driven. "

Peter Neelands had the most uncomfortable feeling he had ever known. He was not sure whether it was his utter aversion to the man who satin front of the stove, boasting of his sharp dealing, or a physicalillness which affected him, but a horrible nausea came over him. Hishead swam--his eardrums seemed like to burst--every bone began toache. 

The three days that followed were like a nightmare, which even timecould never efface or rob of its horror. The fight with the stormhad proven such a shock to him that for three days a burning fever, alternating with chills, held him in its clutches, and even when thestorm subsided kept him a prisoner sorely against his will. 

In these three days, at close range, he saw something of a phase oflife he had never even guessed at. He did not know that human beingscould live in such crude conditions, without comforts, withouteven necessities. It was like a bad dream--confused, humiliating, horrible--and when on the third day he was able to get into hisclothes his one desire was to get away--and yet, to leave his kindhostess who had so gently nursed him and cared for him, seemed like anact of desertion. 

However, when he was on his feet, though feeling much shaken, andstill a bit weak, his courage came back. Something surely could bedone to relieve conditions like this. 

The snow was piled fantastically in huge mounds over the fields, andthe railway cuts would be drifted full, so no train would run fordays. But Peter felt that he could walk the distance back to town. 

His host made no objection, and no offer to drive him. 

In the tiny bedroom off the kitchen, which Mrs. Paine had given him, as he shiveringly made his preparations for leaving, he heard astrange voice in the other room, a girl's voice, cheery, pleasant. 

"I just came in to see how you are, Mrs. Paine. No thank you, I won'tput the team in the stable--I ran them into the shed. I am on my wayhome from driving the children to school. Some storm, wasn't it? Thesnow is ribbed like a washboard, but it is hard enough to carry thehorses. "

Peter came out, with his coat and his hat in his hand, and wasintroduced. His first thought was one of extreme mortification--threedays' beard was on his face. His toilet activities had been limitedin number. He knew he felt wretched, seedy, groggy--and looked it. Something in Pearl's manner re-assured him. 

"Going to town?" said she kindly, "rather too far for you to walk whenyou are feeling tough. Come home with me if you are not in a hurry, and I will drive you in this afternoon. "

Peter accepted gladly. 

He hardly looked at her, holding to some faint hope that if he didnot look at her she would not be able to see him either, and at thismoment Peter's one desire was not to be seen, at least by this girl. 

In a man's coonskin coat she stood at the door, with her face rosywith the cold. She brought an element of hope and youth, a newspirit of adventure into the drab room, with its sodden, commonplacedreariness. Peter's spirits began to rise. 

Outside the dogs began to bark, and a cutter went quickly past thewindow. 

Mrs. Paine, looking out, gave a cry of alarm. 

"Wait, Pearl! Oh, don't go!" she cried, "stay with me. It's the manwho is going to buy the farm. He said he was coming, but I didn'tbelieve him;" her hands were locking and unlocking. 

Without a word, Pearl slipped off her coat and waited. She seemedto know the whole situation, and instinctively Peter began to feeleasier. There was something about this handsome girl, with thefirmly-set and dimpled chin, which gave him confidence. 

In a few moments Sylvester Paine and his caller came in from thebarn. Pearl stood beside Mrs. Paine, protectingly. Her face had grownserious; she knew the fight was on. 

Sylvester Paine nodded to her curtly, and introduced his guest toevery one at once. 

"This is Mr. Gilchrist, " he said, "and now we'll get to business. Getthe deeds. " he said, to his wife shortly. 

Mrs. Paine went upstairs. 

"Who did you say the young lady is, " asked Mr. Gilchrist, who thoughthe recognized Pearl, but not expecting to see her here, wished to besure. Mr. Gilchrist, as President of the Political Association, hadheard about Pearl, and hoped she might be an able ally in the comingelection. 

"This is Pearl Watson, " said Mr. Paine, rather grudgingly. "This isthe girl that's working up the women to thinking that they ought tovote. Her father and mother are good neighbors of mine, and Pearl wasa nice kid, too, until she went to the city and got a lot of foolnotions. "

"I'm a nice kid yet, " said Pearl, smiling at him, and compelling himto meet her eye, "and I am a good neighbor of yours too, Mr. Paine, for I am going to do something for you today that no one has everdone. I'm going to tell you something. "

She walked over to the table and motioned to the two men to sitdown, though she remained standing. Sylvester Paine stared at heruncomprehendingly. The girl's composure was disconcerting. Her voicehad a vibrant passion in it that made Peter's heart begin to beat. Itwas like watching a play that approaches its climax. 

"Mr. Gilchrist probably does not understand that there is a smalltragedy going on here today. Maybe he does not know the part he isplaying in it. It is often so in life, that people do not know thepart they played until it is too late to change. You've come heretoday to buy the farm. "

Mr. Gilchrist nodded. 

"Ten years ago this farm was idle land. Mr. And Mrs. Paine homesteadedit, and have made it one of the best in the country. It has been hardwork, but they have succeeded. For the last five years Mr. Paine hasnot been much at home--he has bought cattle and horses and shippedthem to the city, and has done very well, and now has nearly fifteenthousand dollars in the bank. There is no cleverer man in the countrythan Mr. Paine in making a bargain, and he is considered one of thebest horsemen in the Province. He pays his debts, keeps his word, andthere is no better neighbor in this district. "

Sylvester Paine watched her open-mouthed--amazed. How did she knowall this? It made strange music in his ears, for, in spite of all hisbluster, he hungered for praise; for applause. Pearl's words fell likea shower on a thirsty field. 

"Meanwhile, " Pearl went on, "Mrs. Paine runs the farm, and makes itpay, too. Although Mrs. Paine works the hardest of the two, Mr. Painehandles all the money, and everything is in his name. He has notnoticed just how old and worn her clothes are. Being away so much, themanner of living does not mean so much to him as to her, for she isalways here. Mrs. Paine is not the sort of woman who talks. She nevercomplains to the other women, and they call her proud. I think Mrs. Paine has been to blame in not telling Mr. Paine just how badly sheneeds new clothes. He always looks very well himself, and I am sure hewould like to see her well dressed, and the children too. But she willnot ask him for money, and just grubs along on what she can get withthe butter money. She is too proud to go out poorly dressed, and sodoes not leave home for months at a time, and of course, that's badfor her spirits, and Mr. Paine gets many a cross look from her when hecomes home. It makes him very angry when she will not speak--he doesnot understand. "

"Mr. Paine's intention now is to sell the farm and buy the hotel inMillford. He will still go on buying cattle, and his wife will run thehotel. She does not want to do this. She says she will not do it--itis not a proper place in which to raise her children. She hates theliquor business. This is her home, for which she has worked. "

"It is not much of a home; it's cold in winter and hot in summer. Youwould never think a man with fifteen thousand dollars in the bankwould let his wife and children live like this, without even thecommon decencies of life. That's why Mrs. Paine has never had any ofher own people come to visit her, she is ashamed for them to see howbadly off she is. No, it is not much of a home, but she clings to it. It is strange how women and animals cling to their homes. You rememberthe old home on the road to Hampton your people had, Mr. Gilchrist, the fine old house with the white veranda and the big red barn? It wasthe best house on the road. It burned afterwards--about three yearsago. "

Mr. Gilchrist nodded. 

"Well, we bought, when we came to our farm here, one of your father'shorses, the old Polly mare--do you remember Polly?"

"I broke her in, " he said, "when she was three. "

"Well, Polly had been away a long time from her old home, but lastsummer when we drove to Hampton Polly turned in to the old place andwent straight to the place where the stable had stood. There wasnothing there--even the ruins are overgrown with lamb's quarters--butPolly went straight to the spot. It had been home to her. "

A silence fell on the room. 

"There is no law to protect Mrs. Paine, " Pearl went on, after a longpause. "The law is on your side, Mr. Gilchrist. If you want the placethere is no law to save Mrs. Paine. Mr. Paine is quite right in sayinghe can take the children, so she will have to follow. Mrs. Paine isnot the sort of woman to desert her children. She would live even ina hotel rather than desert her children. The law is on your side, gentlemen--you have the legal right to go on with the transaction. "

"What law is this?" said Mr. Gilchrist. 

"The law of this Province, " said Pearl. 

"Do you mean to say, " said Mr. Gilchrist hotly, "that Mrs. Painecannot claim any part of the price of this farm as her own--or doesnot need to sign the agreement of sale. Has she no claim at all?"

"She has none, " said Pearl, "she has no more claim on this farm thanthe dog has!"

"By Gosh! I never knew that, " he cried. "We'll see a lawyer in townbefore we do anything. That's news to me. "

"Are you sure of it, Pearl?" Mrs. Paine whispered. "Maybe there'ssomething I can do. This young man is a lawyer--maybe he could tellus. "

Sylvester Paine was trying to recover his point of view. 

"Can you tell us, " Pearl asked Peter, who sat in a corner, intenselylistening, "what the law says. "

"The law, " said Peter miserably--as one who hates the word he is aboutto utter--"gives a married woman no rights. She has no claim on herhome, nor on her children. A man can sell or will away his propertyfrom his wife. A man can will away his unborn child--and it's a hellof a law, " he added fiercely. 

Pearl turned to Robert Gilchrist, saying, "Mr. Gilchrist, the law iswith you. The woman and the three children have no protection. Mr. Paine is willing that they should be turned out. It is up to you. "

Mrs. Paine, who had come down the stairs with the deed in her hand, laid it on the table and waited. For some time no one spoke. 

Sylvester Paine looked at the floor. He was a heavy-set man, with ahuge head, bare-faced and rather a high forehead. He did not seem tobe able to lift his eyes. 

"I suppose, " continued Pearl, "the people who made the laws did notthink it would ever come to a show-down like this. They thought thatwhen a man promised to love and cherish a woman--he would look afterher and make her happy, and see to it that she had clothes to wear anda decent way of living--if he could. Of course, there are plenty ofmen who would gladly give their wives everything in life, but theycan't, poor fellows--for they are poor; but Mr. Paine is one of thebest off men in the district. He could have a beautiful home if heliked, and his wife could be the handsomest woman in the neighborhood. She is the sort of woman who would show off good clothes too. Isuppose her love of pretty things has made her all the sorer, becauseshe has not had them. I just wanted to tell you, Mr. Gilchrist, beforeyou closed the deal. Mrs. Paine would never tell you, and naturallyenough Mr. Paine wouldn't. In fact he does not know just how thingsstand. But I feel that you should know just what you are doing if youtake this farm. Of course, it is hardly fair to expect you to protectthis woman's home and her children, and save her from being turnedout, if her husband won't--you are under no obligation to protect her. She made her choice years ago--with her eyes open--when she marriedSylvester Paine. It seems ... She guessed wrong ... And now ... Shemust pay!"

Mrs. Paine sank into a chair with a sob that seemed to tear her heartout. The auburn hair fell across her face, her lovely curly hair, fromwhich in her excitement she had pulled the pins. It lay on the tablein ringlets of gold, which seemed to writhe, as if they too weresuffering. Her breath came sobbing, like a dog's dream. 

Sylvester Paine was the first to speak. 

"Pearl, you're wrong in one place, " he said, "just one--you hadeverything else straight. But you were wrong in one place. "

He went around the table and laid his hand on his wife's head. 

"Millie, " he said, gently. 

She looked up at him tearfully. 

"Millie!"

He stood awkwardly beside her, struggling to control himself. All theswagger had gone from him, all the bluster. When he spoke his voicewas husky. 

"Pearl has got it all straight, except in one place. " he said. "She'swrong in one place. She says you guessed wrong when you married me, Millie. "

His voice was thick, and the words came with difficulty. 

"Pearl has done fine, and sized the case up well ... But she's wrongthere. It looks bad just now, Millie--but you didn't make such arotten guess, after all. I'm not just sayin' what I'll do, but--"

"The deal is off, Bob, " he said to Mr. Gilchrist, "until Mrs. Paineand I talk things over. "

And then Pearl quietly slipped into her coat and, motioning to Peter, who gladly followed her, went out. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE SEVENTH WAVE

The big storm had demoralized the long-distance telephone service, so, that it was by night lettergram that George Steadman was commissionedby the official organizer of the Government to find P. J. Neelands, whohad not been heard of since the morning of the storm. Mr. Steadman wassomewhat at a loss to know how to proceed. 

He was very sorry about Mr. Neelands and his reported disappearance. Mr. Neelands was one of the friendliest and most approachable ofthe young political set, and Mr. Steadman had often listened to hisspeeches, and always with appreciation. He wondered why Mr. Neelandshad come to Millford now without telling him. 

At the hotel, nothing was known of the young man, only that he hadtaken a room, registered, slept one night, and gone, leaving all histhings. Mr. Steadman was conducted to Number 17, and shown the meagredetails of the young man's brief stay. His toilet articles, ofsterling silver with his monogram, lay on the turkish towel, which atonce concealed and protected the elm top of the bureau; his two bags, open and partly unpacked, took up most of the floor space in the room. His dressing-gown was hung on one of the two hooks on the back of thedoor, suspended by one shoulder, which gave it a weary, drunken look. There was something melancholy and tragic about it all. 

"In the midst of life we are in death, " said George Steadman tohimself piously, and shuddered. "It looks bad. Poor young fellow--cutoff in his prime--he did not even have a fur coat! and went out neverthinking. "

He examined the telegram again--"On business for the Government, " itsaid, "of a private nature. See 'Evening Echo' March 21st, Page 23. "What could that mean?

George Steadman did not take the "Evening Echo. " He hated the verysight of it. The "Morning Sun" was good enough for him. He rememberedthe thrill of pride he had felt when his Chief had said one day indebate, that he wanted nothing better than the "Sun" and the Bible. It was an able utterance, he thought, reminding one of the good oldQueen's reply to the Ethiopian Prince, and should have made its appealeven to the Opposition; but the leader had said, in commenting on it, that he was glad to know his honorable friend was broad-minded enoughto read both sides!

And now he was told to look up the Opposition paper, and the very pagewas given. His first thought was that it was a personal attack uponhimself. But how could that be? He never opened his mouth in thehouse--he never even expressed an opinion, and as the campaign had notyet begun--he had not done anything. 

He read the telegram again. In desperation he went back to the longdistance booth, but found the line still out of order, and a wire hadcome giving the details of the damage done by the storm. It would beseveral days before communication could be established. There was nohelp coming from headquarters, and from the wording of the telegramthere seemed to be a reason for their not giving clear details. Hemust get a copy of the paper. 

Reluctantly he went to the printing office and made known his errand. Mr. Driggs was delighted to give him the paper--he had it some place, though he very seldom opened any of his exchanges. He evidently boreMr. Steadman no ill-will for his plain talk two weeks ago. With somedifficulty he found it, with its wrapper still intact. It was a loosewrapper, which slipped off and on easily. Mr. Steadman remarkedcarelessly that there was an editorial in it to which his attentionhad been drawn, on hearing which Mr. Driggs turned his head and winkedat an imaginary accomplice. 

Mr. Steadman went over to the livery stable to find a quiet, clover-scented corner in which he might peruse his paper. An intuitivefeeling cautioned him to be alone when he read it. 

In the office, Mr. Steadman found a chair, and opened his paper. Bertie, ever on the alert for human interest stories, watched from apoint of vantage. He told Mrs. Crocks afterwards about it. 

"The paper seemed to tangle up at first and stick to his fingers. Hewrastled it round and round and blew on it, and turned over pages andfolded it back--Gee, there was a lot of it. It filled the whole table, and pieces dropped on the floor. He put his foot on them, like as ifhe was afraid they'd get away. At last he found something, and he justsnorted--I got as close as I could, but I couldn't see what it was. There was a picture of a girl--and he read on and on, and snorted outthree times, and the sweat stood out on his face. Twice he cleared uphis throat like your clock does when it gets ready to strike, andthen he tore out a page of the paper and put it in his pocket, and hegathered up the rest of it and burned it, all but one sheet that wasunder the table, and I got it here. "

Bertie brought home the news at six o'clock. Mrs. Crocks had a copy ofthe paper in her hands at six-fifteen. 

Meanwhile, George Steadman, was feeling the need of counsel. His headswam, and a cruel sense of injustice ate into his heart. He was aquiet man--he did not deserve this. All his life he had sidesteppedtrouble--and here it was staring him in the face. In desperation hewent to Driggs, the editor. He was a shrewd fellow--he would know whatwas best to be done. 

He found Mr. Driggs still in a sympathetic mood. He threw back hislong black hair and read the article, with many exclamations ofsurprise. In places he smiled--once he laughed. 

"How can any one answer this, Driggs?" asked Mr. Steadman in alarm. "What can be done about it? I wish you would write something about it. I can't think who would do this. There were no strangers that day atthe school--not that I noticed. None of our people would do it. Whatdo you think about it, Driggs? Would the girl write it herself?"

"No, " replied the editor honestly, "I am quite sure Pearl did not dothis. "

Suddenly Mr. Steadman thought of the telegram and the missing man. Heresolved to take Driggs into his confidence. 

Driggs was as quick to see the import of it as King James was to smellgunpowder on that fateful November day when the warning letter wasread in Parliament. 

"The Government have sent him out to investigate this in your behalf, "he said. 

"But where is he?" asked Mr. Steadman. 

Mr. Driggs' bushy brows drew down over his eyes. 

"There's one person can help us, " he said. He threw on hisjute-colored waterproof and his faded felt hat. Mr. Steadman followedhim as he went quickly to the Horse Repository. 

Bertie was hastily consulted, and Bertie as usual ran true. 

"Sure I saw him, " said Bertie. "Ain't he back yet? Gee! I'll bet he'sfroze! He'll be dead by now for sure. He had on awful nice clothes, but thin toes on his boots, sharp as needles, and gray socks with dotson them, and a waist on his coat like as if he wore corsets, and graygloves--and a cane, Swell! He was some fine looker, you bet, but hewouldn't last long in that storm. "

"Where did he go, Bertie, " asked Mr. Steadman, trying to hold hisvoice to a tone of unconcern. 

"He asked about teachers, and about how far it was to Watsons. "

Mr. Driggs and Mr. Steadman's eyes met. 

"If he's any place, " said Bertie cheerfully, "he'll be there. "

To the Watson's Mr. Steadman and Mr. Driggs determined to go, although, by this time the evening was well advanced. 

The storm had piled the snow into huge drifts which completely filledthe railway cuts, but fortunately for those who travelled the sleighroads, the snow was packed so hard that horses could walk safely overit. Bridges over ravines were completely covered, people made tunnelsto the doors of their stables, and in some cases had to dig the snowaway from their windows to let the light in. But the sun had comeout warm, and the weather prophets said it was the last storm of theseason. 

When Mr. Steadman and Mr. Driggs approached the Watson home, theyfound every window lighted and several sleighs in the yard. From thehouse came sounds of laughter and many voices. 

"There is no funeral here, " said Mr. Driggs lightly. 

George Steadman shuddered, "he may never have reached here, " he saidin a voice of awe. 

They knocked at the woodshed door, but no one heard them. Then theywent quietly in, and finding the kitchen door open, went in. 

Mr. Watson, who stood at the door of the "room, " shook hands with themquietly, and said in a whisper:--

"They're acting tableaux now, just step up to the door and see them. The children are having a party. Pearl will explain it in a minute. Just step in and watch; you're just in time--they're just goin' to doKing Canute. "

The two men looked in. About a dozen young people were in the room, which was well lighted by a gasoline hanging-lamp. The furniturewas pushed into a corner to leave a good floor space. A curtain wassuspended from one of the beams, and behind it there seemed to begreat activity and whispered directions. Every one was so intentlywaiting, they did not notice that the audience had been augmented bythe two men at the door. 

In front of the curtain came Pearl to announce the next tableaux:--

"Ladies and gentlemen, " she said solemnly, although her audiencebegan to laugh expectantly, "we will now present to you a historicaltableaux, a living picture of a foolish old king, who thought he couldcommand the waves to stand still. Seated in his arm-chair on the shoreyou will see King Canute. Behind him are the rugged hills of the Saxoncoast. Before him the sea tosses angrily. The tide is rolling in. Eachwave is a little bigger than the last, the seventh wave being thelargest of all. This tableaux, ladies and gentlemen, in the productionof which we have spared no trouble and expense, teaches the vanity ofhuman greatness. Careful attention has been given to detail, as youwill observe. "

She disappeared behind the curtain for a moment, and when it waspulled back by invisible hands--(broom wire handled by Mary) she wasdiscovered sitting robed in purple (one of the girls had brought hermother's Japanese dressing-gown) with a homemade but very effectivecrown on her head. Her throne was an arm-chair, raised on blocks ofwood. As King Canute, Pearl's eyes were eagle-like and keen, her wholebearing full of arrogance and pride. Dramatically she waved her rightarm towards the sea, and in bitter words chided it for its restlesstossing, and commanded it to hear the words of the ALL HIGH, Great andPowerful King, and stay--just--where--it--was!

But even as she spoke, a small wave came rolling in, gently lappingthe shore. It was Danny Watson, with a small white apron tied aroundhis person, which at each revolution, made a white crest of breakingfoam. 

The King re-doubled his imprecations, and commands, tearing hishair and threatening to rend his garments, but wave after wave camerhythmically to shore, growing in size and speed, until the seventhwave, crested with foam--a pillow-case torn across and fastened withsafety-pins--came crashing to her feet, amid thunderous applause. 

When the company, with the king at one end and the first and smallestwave at the other, stood up to take their applause, and respond tocurtain calls, next to Pearl stood the seventh wave--crested withfoam, dishevelled of hair--a four days' growth of whiskers on hisface--but a happy-looking wave--nevertheless. 

Mr. Steadman grabbed hold of his friend hysterically. He could notspeak. 

"Well, thank God, he's not dead anyway, " he gasped at last. 

"But I fancy, " murmured Mr. Driggs, "that he is dead--to the cause!"

"Make a speech, Pearl, " cried one of the company. "Mr. Neelands wouldlike to hear you do that one of the Premier's, when he laid thecornerstone, about 'the generations yet unborn. ' Go on, Pearl, that'sa good one!"

"Don't forget 'the waves of emigration breaking at our feet'!" saidMary, handing Pearl one of Teddy's coats. 

Pearl slipped on the coat, carefully adjusting the collar. Thenfingering an imaginary watch-chain, she began. Her face grewgrave--her neck seemed to thicken. Her voice was a throaty contralto. 

"We are gathered here today. " she declaimed, "to take part in aceremonial, whose import we cannot even remotely guess! Whose fullsignificance will be revealed, not in your time or mine, but to thegenerations yet unborn!"

Peter Neelands gave a shout of recognition! Mr. Driggs felt a stronghand on his arm. George Steadman whispered hoarsely. "Come away, Driggs. That girl frightens me. This is no place for us!"

CHAPTER XV

THE COMING OF SPRING

The Spring was late, cruelly late, so late indeed that if it had beenanything else but a season, it would have found itself in serioustrouble--with the door locked and a note pinned on the outside tellingit if it could not come in time it need not come at all. But theSpring has to be taken in, whenever it comes--and be forgiven too, andeven if there were no note on the door, there were other intimationsof like effect, which no intelligent young Spring could fail tounderstand. Dead cattle lay on the river bank, looking sightlessly upto the sky. They had waited, and waited, and hung on to life just aslong as they could, but they had to give in at last. 

Spring came at last, brimful of excitement and apologies. It was afull-hearted, impulsive and repentant young Spring, and lavished allits gifts with a prodigal hand; its breezes were as coaxing as June;its head burned like the first of July; its sunshine was as rich andmellow as the sunshine of August. Spring had acknowledged its debtand the overdue interest, and hoped to prevent any unpleasantness bypaying all arrears and a lump sum in advance; and doing it all withsuch a flourish of good fellowship that the memory of its pastdelinquency would be entirely swept away!

The old Earth, frozen-hearted and bleached by wind and cold, andsaddened by many a blighted hope, lay still and unresponsive under thecoaxing breezes and the sunshine's many promises. The Earth knew whatit knew, and if it were likely to forget, the red and white cattleon the hillside would remind it. The Earth knew that these same warmbreezes had coaxed it into life many times before, and it had burstinto bud and flowers and fruit, forgetting and forgiving the past withits cold and darkness, and the earth remembered that the flowers hadwithered and the fruit had fallen, and dark days had come when it hadno pleasure in them, and so although the sun was shining and the warmwinds blowing--the earth lay as unresponsive as the pulseless cattleon its cold flat breast. 

But the sun poured down its heat, and the warm breezes frolicked intothe out-of-the-way places, where old snowdrifts were hiding theirblack faces, and gradually their hard hearts broke and ran away increeping streams, and the earth returned to the earth that gave it; amist too, arose from the earth, and softened its bare outlines, andsoon the first anemone pushed its furry nose through the mat of graygrass, and scored another victory on the robin; the white poplarblushed green at its roots; the willows at the edge of the riverreddened higher and higher, as the sap mounted; headings of mouse-earssoon began to show on their branches--a green, glow came over theprairie, and in the ponds, It millions of frogs, at the signal from anunknown conductor, burst into song. 

Then it was that the tired old Earth stopped thinking and began tofeel--a thrill--a throb--a pulsing of new life--the stirring of newhopes which mocked its fears of cold or frost or sorrow or death. 

The Souris Valley opened forgiving arms to the repentant young Spring, and put forth leaves in gayest fashion. The white bones, fantasticallysticking through faded red hides, were charitably hidden by the grass, so that the awakened conscience of the tender young Spring might notbe unduly reminded of its cruelty and neglect. 

The woman who lived alone at Purple Springs always expected greatthings of the Spring. She could not grow accustomed to the coldness ofher neighbors, or believe that they had really cut her off from anycommunication, and all through the winter which had just gone she hadkept on telling herself that everything would be different in theSpring. Looking day after day into the white valley, piled high withsnow, she had said to herself over and over again: "There shall be nomore snow--there shall be no more snow"--until the words began to mockher and taunt her, and at last lost their meaning altogether like anelastic band that has stretched too far. If she had been as close astudent of the Bible as her mother, back in Argylshire, she would haveknown that her impatience with the snow, which all winter long hadthreatened and menaced her, and peered at her with its thousand eyes, was just the same feeling that prompted John on the Isle of Patmos, wearied by the eternal breaking of the waves on his island prison, toset down as the first condition in the heavenly city: "There shall beno sea. "

Three years before, Mrs. Gray had come to the Souris Valley, andsettled on the hill farm. It had been owned by a prospector, who oncein a while lived on it, but went away for long periods, when it wasbelieved he had gone north into that great unknown land of fabledriches. He had not been heard from for several years, and the peopleof the neighborhood had often wondered what would be done with thequarter-section, which was one of the best in the district, in case henever came back. The Cowan's, who lives nearest, had planted one ofthe fields, and used the land for the last two seasons. The Zinc's hadrun their cattle in the pasture, and two of the other neighbors werepreparing to use the remaining portions of the farm, when therearrived Mrs. Gray and her seven-year-old son to take possession. 

It was Mr. Cowan who demanded to know by what right she came, and whenshe had convinced him by showing him the deed of the farm, she cameback at him by demanding that he pay her the rent for the acres he hadused, which he did with a bad grace. 

She had not been long in the neighborhood when there came todemonstrate a new sewing machine a drooping-eyed, be-whiskered man, in a slim buggy, drawn by a team of sorrel ponies. He claimed to haveknown Mrs. Gray in that delightfully vague spot known as "down East, "and when he found how eagerly any information regarding her wasreceived, he grew eloquent. 

Mrs. Cowan departed from her hard and fast rule, and the rule of hermother before her, and asked him to stay for dinner, and being anhonest man, in small matters at least, the agent did his best to payfor his victuals. He told her all he knew--and then some, prefacingand footnoting his story with the saving clause "Now this may be onlytalk--but, anyway, it is what they said about her. " He was not amalicious man--he bore the woman, who was a stranger to him, nogrudge; but that day as he sat at dinner in the Cowan's big, barekitchen, he sent out the words which made life hard for the woman atPurple Springs. 

So much for the chivalry of the world and the kindly protection itextends to women. 

Vague rumors were circulated about her, veiled, indefiniteinsinuations. The Ladies' Aid decided they would not ask her to join, at least not until they saw how things were going. She might be allright, but they said a church society must be careful. 

The women watched each other to see who would go to see her first. Shecame to church with her boy, to the little church on the river flat, and the minister shook hands with her and told her he was glad tosee her. But the next week his wife, spending the afternoon at Mrs. Cowan's, "heard something, " and the next Sunday, although he shookhands with her and began to say he was glad to see her, catching Mrs. Cowan's eye on him, he changed his sentence and said he was glad tosee so many out. 

All summer long the women at Purple Springs held to the hope thatsomeone would come to see her. At first she could not believe theywere wilfully slighting her. It was just their way, she thought. Theywere busy women; she often saw them out in their gardens, and at suchtimes it was hard for her to keep from waving to them. 

The woman who lived the nearest to her, geographically, was Mrs. Cowan, and one day--the first summer--she saw Mrs. Cowan beating rugson the line, and as the day was breezy, it seemed as if she waved herapron. Mrs. Gray waved back, in an ecstacy of joy and expectation--butthere came no response from her neighbor--no answering signal, and asthe lonely woman watched, hoping, looking, praying--there rolledover her with crushing sadness the conviction that all her hopes offriendliness were in vain. The neighborhood would not receive her--shewas an outcast. They were condemning her without a hearing--they werehurling against her the thunders of silence! The injustice of it atedeeply into her soul. 

Then it was that she began to make the name "Purple Springs" out ofthe willow withes which grew below the house. She made the letterslarge, and with a flourish, and dyed them the most brilliant purplethey would take, and set them on a wire foundation above her gate. Thework of doing it gave solace to her heart, and when the words were setin place--it seemed to her that she had declared her independence, and besides, they reminded her of something very sweet andreassuring--something which helped her to hold her head up against thecurrent of ill thoughts her neighbors were directing toward her. 

That was the year the school was built, and no other name for it but"Purple Springs" was even mentioned, and when the track was extendedfrom Millford west, and a mahogany-red station built, with a tinyfreight shed of the same color, the name of Purple Springs in whiteletters was put on each end of the station. So, although the neighborswould not receive the woman, they took the name she brought. 

Her son Jim, a handsome lad of seven, went to school the first day itwas opened. Her mother heart was fearful for the reception he mightget, and yet she tried to tell herself that children were more justthan their elders. They would surely be fair to Jim, and when shehad him ready, with his leather book-bag, his neat blue sergeknickerbocker suit, his white collar and well-polished boots, shethought, with a swelling of pride, that there would not be a handsomerchild in the school, nor one that was better cared for. 

Down the hill went Jim Gray, without a shadow on his young heart. Solong as he had his mother, and his mother smiled at him, life was allsunshine. 

He gave his name to the teacher, and answered all her questionsreadily, and was duly enrolled as a pupil in Grade I, along withBennie Cowan, Edgar Zinc and Bessie Brownlees, and set at work to makefigures. He wondered what the teacher wanted with so many figures, butdecided he would humor her, and made page after page of them for her. By noon the teacher decided, on further investigation, to put MasterJames Gray in Grade II, and by four o'clock he was a member in goodstanding of Grade III. 

That night there was much talk of James Gray, his good clothes, andhis general proficiency, around the firesides of the Purple Springsdistrict. 

The next day Bennie Cowan, who was left behind in Grade I, although ayear older than Jim Gray, made the startling announcement:

"Jim Gray has no father. "

He sang the words, gently intoning, as if he took no responsibility ofthem any more than if they were the words of a song, for Bennie was acautious child, and while he did not see that the absence of a fatherwas anything to worry over, still, from the general context of theconversation he had heard, he believed it was something of a handicap. 

The person concerned in his announcement, being busy with a game ofmarbles, did not notice. So quite emboldened, Bennie sang again, "JimGray has no father--and never had one. "

The marble game came to an end. 

"Do you mean me?" asked Jim, with a puzzled look. 

The others stopped playing, too. It was a fearsome moment. Jim Graywas the most unconcerned of the group. 

"That's all you know about it, " he said carelessly, as he shut one eyeand took steady aim at the "dib" in the ring, "I've had two. "

"Nobody can have two fathers--on earth, " said Bessie Brownleespiously--"we have one father on earth and one in heaven. "

"Mine ain't on earth, " said Jimmy, "mine are both in heaven. "

That was a poser. 

"I'll bet they're not, " said Bennie, feeling emboldened by Jim'sadmission of a slight irregularity in his paternal arrangements. 

"How do you know?" asked Jim, still puzzled. It did not occur to himthat there was anything unfriendly in the conversation--"You never sawthem!"

"Well, " said Bennie, crowded now to play his highest card, "anyway, your mother is a bad woman. "

Jim looked at him in blank astonishment. His mother a bad woman, hisdear mother! The whole world turned suddenly red to Jim Gray--he didnot need any one to tell him that the time had come to fight. 

The cries of Bennie Cowan brought the teacher flying. Bennie, withbleeding lip and blackened eyes, was rescued, and a tribunal satforthwith on the case. 

James Gray refused to tell what Bennie Cowan had said. His tonguecould not form the words of blasphemy. The other children, all of whomhad heard his history unfavorably discussed at home, did not help him, and the case went against the boy who had no friends. Exaggeratedtales were told of his violence. By the end of the week he had struckBennie Cowan with a knife. A few days later it was told that he hadkicked the teacher. Nervous mothers were afraid to have their childrenexposed to the danger of playing with such a vicious child. 

One day a note was given to him to take home. It was from thetrustees, asking Mrs. Gray if she would kindly keep her son James athome, for his ungovernable temper made it unsafe for other children toplay with him. 

That was three years ago. Annie Gray and her son were as much amystery as ever. She looked well, dressed well, rode astride, worebloomers, and used a rifle, and seemed able to live without either theconsent or good-will of the neighborhood. 

In harvest time she still further outraged public opinion by keepinga hired man, who, being a virtuous man, who had respect for publicopinion, even if she hadn't, claimed fifteen dollars a month extra fora sort of moral insurance against loss of reputation. She paid themoney so cheerfully that the virtuous man was sorry he had not made ittwenty!

It was to this district, with its under-current of human passions, mystery and misunderstanding, that Pearl Watson came. The miracle ofSpring was going on--bare trees budding, dead flowers springing; theriver which had been a prisoner all winter, running brimming full, its ice all gone, and only little white cakes of foam riding on itscurrent. Over all was the pervading Spring smell of fresh earth, andthe distant smoulder of prairie fires. 

CHAPTER XVI

PRINCE OF THE HOUSE OF CLAY

When the train came in from the west, Dr. Clay stepped off and walkedquickly to his office. He called at the drug store before going to hisprivate office, and inquired of the clerk:

"Any one wanting me, Tommy?"

"Sure--two or three--but nothing serious. Bill Snedden wanted you tocome out and see his horse. "

"See his horse!" exclaimed the doctor in surprise. 

"Yes, Democracy hasn't been feeling well. Just sort of mopin' aroundthe stall. Not sick--just out of sorts, you know, down-hearted like. "

"Well, why doesn't he get Dr. Moody? Horses are not my line. "

"O but he says this is different. Democracy is more like a human beingthan a horse, and Dr. Moody don't know much about a horse's highernature. He says he's scared to have Dr. Moody come out anyway--everytime he comes, a horse dies, and he's gettin' superstitious about it. T'aint that he has anything against Dr. Moody. He spoke well of himand said he was nice to have around in time of trouble, he's sosympathetic and all that, but he don't want to take any chances withDemocracy. He would have liked awful well to see you, doctor. I toldhim you'd be home tonight, and he'll give you a ring. No, there wasnothing serious. There was a young fellow here from the city came outto see Pearl Watson, they said, about some set of books or something. He got lost in the storm, and frozen pretty badly. He's out at Watsonsyet, I think. But they didn't phone, or anything--at least, I didn'tget it. I just heard about it. "

"All right, Tommy, " said the doctor, and went on. 

In his own apartment he found everything in order. Telephone messageswere laid beside his mail. His slippers and house-coat were laid out. The coal fire gleamed its welcome. 

The doctor's heart was lighter than it had been. His interview withthe old doctor had been very encouraging. 

"You are looking better, Clay, " the old man had said. "Have you gainedin weight? I thought so. You are going a little easier, and sleepingout--that's right. And you see you can save yourself in lots ofways--don't you? Good! I'm pleased with you. I hear they are after youto run against the Government. You won't touch it, of course. No goodfor a man in your condition. Anyway, a doctor has his own work--and ifyou keep your head down, and get away every winter, you'll live to bean old man yet. "

The doctor sat down to read his mail. There were the usual lettersfrom old patients, prospective patients, people who had wonderfulremedies and had been cruelly snubbed by the medical profession. Heglanced through them casually, but with an absentmindedness which didnot escape his housekeeper when she came in. 

Mrs. Burns was determined to tell him something, so determined, thatas soon as she entered, he felt it coming. He knew that was why shecame. The bluff of asking him if he got his telephone messages was toosimple. 

Mrs. Burns was a sad looking woman, with a tired voice. It was notthat Mrs. Burns was tired or sad, but in that part of the East fromwhich she had come, all the better people spoke in weary voices ofladylike weakness. 

"Well, Mrs. Burns, " the doctor said, "what has happened today?" Heknew he was going to get it anyway--so he might as well ask for it. 

"George Steadman was in an awful state about the young fellow who cameout from the city to see Pearl Watson. He got lost in the storm, andstayed three days at Paines, and then Pearl came over and took himhome with her. Some say the Government sent him about the piece in thepaper, and some say he's her beau. I don't know. Mrs. Crocks saw Pearlwhen she brought him in, and she could get nothing out of her. He's atthe hotel still, though nobody seems to know what his business is. "

"O well, " laughed the doctor, "we'll just have to watch him. Don'tleave washings on the line, and lock our doors--he can't scare us. "

Mrs. Burns afterwards told Mrs. Crocks that "Doctor Clay can bevery light at times, and it seems hardly the thing, considering hisprofession. "

Mrs. Burns could never quite forgive herself for leaving so early thatnight, and almost lost her religion, because no still small voiceprompted her to stay. Just as she left the office, the young man, themysterious stranger, came to the door, and Mrs. Burns knew there wasno use going back through the drug store and listening at the door. The doctor had heavy curtains at each door in his office, and had away of leaving the key in the door, that cut off the last hope. So shewent home in great heaviness of spirit. 

P. J. Neelands presented his card, and was given a leather chairbeside the fire. He asked the doctor if he might smoke, and was givenpermission. 

"I am going to talk to you in confidence, Doctor Clay, " he said, nervously. "I guess you're used to that. "

The doctor nodded encouragingly: "That's what doctors are for. Goright on, Mr. Neelands. "

"The fact of the matter is--I'm in love, " said Peter, taking the headplunge first. 

"O that's nothing, " said the doctor. "I mean--that's nothing to worryabout. "

"But she does not care a hang for me. In fact, she laughs at me. "

Peter's face was clouded in perplexity. 

"But I'll begin at the beginning: I belong to the Young Men'sPolitical Club in the city, and I was sent out here--at least, Imean I asked to come on a delicate mission. I'm speaking to youconfidentially, of course. "

"Of course, " said the doctor, "have no fears. "

"Well, perhaps you saw this. " He produced the article that had causedthe fluttering in the Governmental nest. 

The doctor suddenly came to attention. 

"Do you know who wrote it? No! Well anyway, I came out to see aboutit--to investigate--look over the ground. But, doctor, I got thesurprise of my life. This girl is a wonder. "

"Well, " the doctor's sympathetic manner had gone. He was sittingup very straight in his chair now, and his eyes were snapping withsuppressed excitement. "What did you think you could do about it? Didyou think you could stop her--hush her up--or scare her--or bribeher--or what?"

"I did not know, " said Peter honestly. "But I want to tell you whathappened. I was three days at Paine's--caught by the storm--do youknow them? Well, it's a good place to go to see what women are upagainst. I was mad enough to throw old Paine out of his own house, andI found out he was going to sell the farm over her head, and By Jove!I see why the women want to vote, don't you?"

"I've always seen why, " replied the doctor. "I thought every one withany intelligence could see the justice of it. " The doctor's manner waslosing its friendliness, but Peter, intent on his own problems, didnot resent it. 

"Well, just when this man Gilchrist came to sign the papers, themorning I left, she came in--Pearl Watson, I mean--and Doctor, Inever heard anything like it. Talk about pleading a case! She did notplead--she just reviewed the case--she put it up to Gilchrist--it wasmarvellous! If she had asked me to shoot the two of them, I wouldhave done it. She had me--she has me yet--she's the most charming, sweet-souled and wonderful girl I ever saw. "

The doctor endeavored to speak calmly:

"Well, what about it?" he said. "I agree with you--she is all ofthat. "

"I am going back to resign from the party. I am going to throw myweight on the other side, " Peter spoke with all the seriousnessof youth. "The girl has shown me what a beastly, selfish lot thepoliticians are, and I am going back to denounce them, if they won'tchange. But I want to ask you something, Doctor--you won't think I amcheeky, will you? She gave me absolutely no hope--but girl's sometimeschange their minds. I would wait for years for her. I simply can'tlive without her. I thought from the way she spoke there was someone else--if there is--I will just crawl away and die--I can't livewithout her!"

"O shut up, " said the doctor impatiently. "Better men than you have tolive without--the women they love--that's foolish talk. "

"Well, tell me, doctor, " cried Peter desperately, "I just have toknow. Is there any reason why I can't hope to win her? Do you know ofany reason--you know Pearl well. Is there any reason that you know of?Has any one any right--to stop me from trying?"

The doctor considered. Here was just the situation he had told Pearlhe hoped would arise. This young fellow was clean, honest, and therewas no doubt of his deep sincerity. He had told Pearl she must forgethim. He had tried to mean it, and here it was--here was the verysituation he said he hoped for. He would play up--he could makehimself do what was right, no matter how he felt. 

He heard himself say mechanically:

"There is no reason, Mr. Neelands; Pearl is free to decide. No one hasthe smallest claim on her. "

Peter sprang up and caught his hand, wondering why it should be socold. He also wondered at the flush which burned on the doctor'scheeks. 

"Thanks, old man, " he cried impulsively, "I cannot tell you how Ithank you. You have rolled a house off me--and now, tell me you wishme well--I want your good word. "

The doctor took his outstretched hand, with an effort. 

"I wish you well, " he said slowly, in a voice that was like a shadowof his own. 

When Peter had gone, the doctor rose and paced the floor. 

"I'm a liar and a hypocrite, " he said bitterly. "I don't wish himwell. I said what was not so when I said I hoped to see her marriedto some one else--I don't--I want her myself. I can't give her up! Iwon't give her up!"

The next morning, before the doctor started to make his calls, RobertGilchrist, President of the Political Club, came to see him, again. 

"I am not satisfied with that interview we had with you, doctor, " hesaid, "the day the organizer was here. That fellow made a mess ofeverything, and I don't blame you for turning it down. But I tell you, there's more in it than this fellow thinks. There is a real moralissue to be decided, and I am here to admit I've had a new look atthings in the last few days. I am going into the city to see ourleader, and I want to see how he feels. But, doctor, some of our lawsare simply disgraceful; they've got to be changed. "

He went on to tell the doctor of the day he went to buy SylvesterPaine's farm. 

"I never felt any meaner than when Pearl told me what it meant, andwhat I was doing. Doctor, if you had seen the look in Mrs. Paine'sface when Pearl was putting it up to me; Lord, it was tragic. It wasas if her hope of Heaven was in dispute, and didn't Pearl put it tome? Say, doctor, that girl can swing an election. No one can resisther arguments--she's so fair about everything--no one can get awayfrom her arguments. The reason these laws have been left the way theyare, is that no one knows about them. Did you know that a man can selleverything, and do what he likes with the money, no matter what hiswife says--and did you know a man can take his children away from themother--Did you know about these?"

"I did, " said the doctor, "in a vague way. Fortunately they do notoften come up--men are better than the laws--and they would need tobe. "

"Well, doctor, I'll tell you what I want to say. I believe it is yourduty to run. The women need a few members there to stick up for them. Pearl thinks our party is all right too--she says they'll grant thevote--if they get in--and she was at the big meeting where the womenasked them to make it a plank in their platform. She says some ofthe old hide-bound politicians gagged a little, but they swallowedit--they had to. " "I wish you could hear Pearl talk, doctor. Sheseemed disappointed when I told her you weren't going to run. "

"You haven't thought of any one else, Bob?" the doctor asked, after apause. "You wouldn't consider it yourself?"

"Any one else but you will surely lose his deposit. The bridge atPurple Springs will hold them over there, and they have taken off aslice on the east of the riding and put it in Victoria--where it issure to go against the Government anyway. No, this will go to Steadmanby acclamation, unless you let us nominate you. "

"Well, I'll reconsider, " said the doctor, "and phone you inside oftwenty-four hours. "

When Mr. Gilchrist had gone, the doctor sat with his hands behind hishead. His eyes were very bright, and a flush mantled his cheek. Hisheart thumped so hard, he could hear it. 

"Keep away from excitement, Clay, " he could hear the old doctorsaying, "excitement eats up your energy and does not give the buildersa chance. With care, and patience, you may win--but if you will notsave yourself, and nurse yourself, and go slow--you are a dead man!"

He pressed his hands tightly to his head. 

"Pearl had been disappointed, " Bob had said. It would be a disgrace tolet this riding go by default. There was the liquor question which hadhung fire for fourteen years, while the Government had simply playedwith it, and laughed at the temperance people. If women had the vote, what a power Pearl would be!

Still, one vote in Parliament was nothing--one man could do butlittle--and besides, the old doctor had found him improved--he mightbe able to beat out the disease yet--by being careful. A campaignwould mean late hours, long drives, meeting people--makingspeeches--which he hated--the worst kind of excitement--to move a voteof thanks tired him more than a week's work. 

Still, Pearl would be pleased--he hadn't done much for Pearl. He hadwon her love--and then had to turn it away--and had seen those eyes ofher's cloud in disappointment. It had been a raw deal. 

Looking through the window, he saw Bertie, with his team, waitingoutside the door. He was letting Bertie take full care of his horsesnow, and saving himself in that way. 

The sorrel horse on the side next him tossed his head, and chewed thebit, with a defiant air that set waves of memory in motion. He hadbought this fine four-year-old, because he had reminded him of oldPrince--the same color--the same markings, and the same hard mouth anddefiant red eye. 

Usually, he did not keep Bertie waiting--but this morning it did notmatter--there were other things to be decided. The sorrel horse seemedto be looking at him through the office window. 

"There was another sorrel horse to take your place, Prince, " said thedoctor, looking at the big sorrel, but thinking of his predecessor;"although that did not influence you in any way--you left that to meto find out--you considered that my business. I believe I will be safein leaving it to some one higher up to get another doctor to take myplace--doctors--and sorrel horses--there are plenty of them. You hadthe right philosophy, Prince. No one else could have saved the woman'slife--so you did that--and let me rustle for another horse. I'll dothe same--after all--it is not individuals who count--it is the race. We do our bit--and pass on. Straight ahead of me seems to be a pieceof work I can do--and if I have to pay for the privilege of doingit--I'll pay--without regrets. "

He reached for the telephone, and called Mr. Gilchrist. 

"Hello Bob, " he said steadily, "I've reached a decision. No, it didn'ttake me long. Yes, I will. I'll accept the nomination. All rightBob--I hope so. Thank you for your good opinion--All right. "

CHAPTER XVII

PETER'S REPORT

When Peter J. Neelands returned to the city, he sought an interviewwith his Chief. It was a bold stroke, Mr. Neelands knew, but thecircumstances warranted it. He must lay the matter before his superiorofficer; as a loyal member of the party, he must bring in a warning. He must make the Government understand. 

The old leader was one of the most approachable of men, genial, kindly, friendly. The interview was arranged without difficulty, andPeter, with his heart beating uncomfortably, was shown by the oldretainer who kept guard in the outside office through the blue velvethangings into the Chief's private office. 

At a long oaken table, on which were scattered a few trade journalsand newspapers, he found the great man. An unlighted cigar was in hismouth, and he sat leaning back in a revolving chair. 

"Well, Peter, my son--how are you?" he said gaily, extending his hand. "And so you feel you must see the old man on business of importance, vital importance to our country's welfare. That's good; glad to seeyou, take a chair beside me and tell uncle who hit you. "

The Chief was a man of perhaps sixty years of age, of floridcountenance, red mustache, turning gray, splendidly developedforehead, dark gray eyes with wire-like wrinkles radiating from them, which seemed to have been caused more by laughter than worry; a big, friendly voice of great carrying power, and a certain bluff, goodfellowship about him which marked him as a man who was born to rulehis fellowmen, but to do it very pleasantly. 

Peter was complimented to be received so cordially. He was sure hecould make this genial, courteous, kindly old gentleman see certainquestions from a new view-point. He must see it. 

"Perhaps you have heard of a girl at Millford who is making somewhatof a stir along the lines of the Woman Suffrage question, " Peterbegan. 

The great man nodded, and having begun to nod, absent-mindedlycontinued, much to Peter's discomfiture. Peter hastily reviewed thecase, though he could see his listener was bored exceedingly. 

"Now, what I want you to do, sir, " he said earnestly, "is this. Letthis girl come and address the members of the Government and theLegislature--I mean our members--privately, of course. Let her showyou the woman's side of the question. I know, sir, you turned themdown when the delegation came, but a man can always change his mind. The thing is inevitable; the vote is coming. If this Government doesnot give it--the Government will go down to defeat. "

The Chief stopped nodding, and the amiability of his face began tocloud over. He sat up very suddenly and spread his plump hands on thetable. 

"The Opposition have endorsed Woman Suffrage, sir, " said Peterearnestly. "They are making it a plank in their platform. "

"Sure they have, " cried the Premier, with a laugh, "sure they have. They are big enough fools to endorse anything! What do we care whatthey endorse?"

"But I want to get this over to you, Mr. Graham, that we are losingour opportunity to do a big thing, something that will live inhistory, if we fail to give women the vote. Women are human, they havea right to a voice in their own government, and if you would just letthis girl come out and talk to you--and the members. "

"Look here, Peter, " said the great man tolerantly, "I likeenthusiasm--the world is built on it. But I'm an old man now, and havebeen a long time dealing with the public and with politics. Politicsis a dirty mess--it's no place for women, and I certainly do notneed to be instructed by any eighteen-year-old girl, pleasant as theprocess might be. I believe all you say about her--and her charm. Youhad better go and marry her--if you want to. "

Peter's face colored. "I would be very happy to do so, but she turnedme down, sir. "

"Don't be discouraged, lad; a woman's 'no' generally means 'yes', "said his Chief. "Now, even if she could talk like the Angel Gabriel, Iwon't let her at the members of this Government--I'll tell you why. I have these fellows trotting easy. They're good boys--they do asthey're told. Now what's the use of getting them excited and confused. Peter, you know how it is with the Indians--in their wild state, eating rabbits and digging roots--they're happy, aren't they? Surethey are. If you bring them into town, show them street-cars and shopwindows and take them to theatres, you excite them and upset them, that's all. O no, Peter, I'll take no chances on spoiling mysimple-hearted country members by turning loose this orb-eyed youngcharmer who has thrown you clean off your trolley. "

"But, sir, consider the case yourself; won't you admit, sir, that thelaws are fearfully unjust to women?" Peter began to explain, but thePremier interrupted:

"Peter, the world is very old; certain things are established byusage, and the very fact that this is so argues that it should be so. Women are weaker than men--I did not make them so--God made them so. He intended them to be subject to men. Don't get excited over it. Itsounds well to talk about equality--but there's no such thing. It didnot exist in God's mind, so why should we try to bring it about? No, no, Peter, women are subject to men, and always will be. It wouldnot do to make them independent in the eyes of the law, independenteconomically. If they were they would not marry. Look at the womenin the States--where in some places they vote--look at the type thatdevelops. What does it bring?--race-suicide, divorce--free love. I'man old-fashioned man, Peter, I believe in the home. "

"So do I, " said Peter, "with all my heart. "

The great man began to show signs of impatience. 

"Before I go, " said Peter earnestly, "let me make one more appeal toyou. This is a live issue. It cannot be dismissed by a wave of thehand. Will you listen to a debate on it--will you let it be discussedin your hearing?"

The old man considered a moment--then he said:

"This will wear off you, Peter. I, too, have been young. I understand. Forget it, boy, and get back to normal. No, I will not hear itdiscussed. I know all about it--all I want to know. I don't know whyI am wasting so much time on you and your particular type offoolishness, Peter. I have people like you seeing me every day. Usually they are dealt with by Mr. Price, in the outer office. He hasorders to put the can on them and open the door. O no, Peter, therewill be no radical measures while I sit at the helm--I am too old tochange my mind. "

Peter began to put on his gloves. The older man held out his hand. 

"Well, good-bye, Peter, " he said kindly, "come again--come anytime--always glad to see you. "

"I will not be back, " said Peter quietly, "this is good-bye. If Icannot show you that you are wrong, I will go out and help the womento show the people that you are wrong. Pearl says if the Premier istoo old to change his mind we will do the next best thing. "

"And what is that?"

"Change the Premier, " Peter replied, steadily. 

The old man laughed, with uproarious mirth. 

"Peter, you're funny, all right; you're rich; I always did enjoy theprattle of children, but I can't fool away any more time on you--sorun along and sell your papers. "

Peter went through the blue velvet hangings, past the worthy henchman, who sat dozing in his chair, and made his way to the front door. Themural decorations in the corridor caught his eye--the covered wagon, drawn by oxen plodding patiently into the sunset--the incomingsettlers of the pioneer days. 

"I wonder if the women did not do their full share of that, " hethought. "They worked, suffered, hoped, endured--and made the countrywhat it is. I wonder how any man has the nerve to deny them a voice intheir own affairs. "

While Peter was taking his departure, and before he had reached thefront gate, one of the many bells which flanked the Premier's tablewas wildly rung. 

"Send Banks to me, " he said crisply, to the lackey who appeared. 

The genial mood had gone; his brows were clamped low over his eyes. Hehad chewed the end off his cigar. 

"Every time the women raise ructions it sets me thinking of her. Iwonder what became of her, " he murmured. "The ground seems to haveswallowed her. She might have known I did not mean it; but women don'treason--they just feel. "

The news of P. J. Neelands' resignation from the Young Men's PoliticalClub made a ripple of excitement in Government circles, and broughtforth diverse comments. 

"There's a girl in it, I hear, " said one of the loungers at the MapleLeaf Club; "some pretty little suffragette has won over our Peter. "

"He does not deny it, " said another, "he'll tell you the wholestory--and believe me, Peter is an enthusiastic supporter of thewomen's cause now. I see in this morning's paper he made a speech forthem last night called 'The Chivalry of the Law. ' Peter has the bloodof the martyrs in him for sure--for he was in a straight line for thenomination here in 'Centre. '"

"Peter Neelands makes me tired, " said a third gloomily. "Why does heneed to get all fussed up over the laws relating to women--they havetoo much liberty now--they can swear away a man's character--that'sone thing I'd like to see changed. It's dangerous, I tell you. "

The first man finished the discussion:

"I always liked Peter, and am sorry he's quit us. He'll have afollowing, too, just because he does believe in himself. "

Though the loungers at the Maple Leaf Club took the news of PeterNeeland's secession with composure, mingled with amusement, the chieforganizer, Mr. Banks, viewed it with alarm, and voiced his fears tothe head of his department, who sat in his accustomed chair, with abottle of the best beside him. The Honorable member listened, butrefused to be alarmed. It was past the third hour of the afternoon, and the rainbow haze was over everything. 

"I tell you, " said Mr. Banks, "something is going to break if wecan't get this thing stopped. The women are gaining every day. Theirmeetings are getting bigger, and now look at Peter Neelands. ThisWatson girl has got to be canned--got rid of--if we have to send herto do immigration work in London, England. "

The honorable member did his best to hold his head steady. 

"Do what you like, Banks, " he said thickly, "only save the country. My country if she's right; my country if she's wrong; but always mycountry! 'Lives there a man with soul so dead, ' eh, Banks? That's thedope--what? Damn the women--but save the home--we gotta' save thehome. "

Oliver Banks looked at him in deep contempt, and shook his head. "These birds make things hard for us, " he murmured. "He looks like aMinister of the Crown now, doesn't he? Lord! wouldn't he make a sightfor the women! I'd like to hear their description of him just as hesits now. "

The minister sat with his pudgy hands spread out on the arms of hischair. His head rolled uncertainly, like a wilting sunflower on abroken stalk. His under lip was too full to fit his face. If he hadbeen a teething infant one would have been justified in saying he wasdrooling. 

The organizer called a waiter and instructed him to phone to thegentleman's house and speak to his chauffeur. 

"Tell him to take the old man home, " he said briefly, "he seems tobe--overtaken. "

"Very good, sir, " said the waiter, without a flicker of an eyelash. 

Then the organizer went to a telephone booth and called GeorgeSteadman, of Millford, requesting him to come at once to the city onimportant business. 

CHAPTER XVIII

THE WOMAN OF PURPLE SPRINGS

None of us has lived long without discovering that everything hehas he pays for; that every gain has a corresponding loss; that adevelopment even of one of our own faculties, is at the expense ofthe others. The wild wheat is small and dwarfed in size in its nativestate, but very hardy. Under persistent cultivation it grows biggerand more productive, but, unfortunately, susceptible to the frost. Thewild rabbit when domesticated grows bigger and more beautiful, butloses his speed and cleverness. So it is all through life--it allcomes in the bill--we cannot escape the day of reckoning. 

If Pearl Watson had not had a taste for political speeches anddebates; if she had read the crochet patterns in the paper instead ofthe editorials, and had spent her leisure moments making butterflymedallions for her camisoles, or in some other ladylike pursuit, instead of leaning over the well-worn railing around the gallery ofthe Legislative Assembly, in between classes at the Normal, she wouldhave missed much; but she would have gained something too. 

For one thing, she would have had an easier time getting aboarding-house in the Purple Springs District, and would not bestanding looking disconsolately out at the Spring sunshine, one day atthe end of April, wondering, with a very sore heart, why nobody wantedto give her board and shelter. It was a new and painful sensation forPearl, and it cut deeply. 

Mrs. Zinc could not keep her beyond May the first, for relatives werecoming from the East. Mrs. Cowan could not take her, for she had toomuch to do as it was--and could not get help that wasn't more troublethan it was worth. They would waste more than their wages, and whatthey did not waste they would steal. Mrs. Cowan's tongue was unloosedby the memory of her wrongs, and it was half an hour before Pearlcould get away. Mrs. Cowan had surely suffered many things at thehands of help of all nationalities. She had got them from employmentbureaus, government and private; from the Salvation Army and fromprivate friends in the old country. Her help had come from everywhereexcept from the Lord! No indeed, she couldn't take any one to board. 

A careful canvass of the neighborhood had resulted in disappointment;not one home was available. Embarrassment had sat on the faces of manyof the women when they talked with her about it, and Pearl was quickto see that there was something back of it all, and the antagonism ofthe unknown lay heavily on her heart. 

The yellow Spring sun, like liquid honey, fell in benediction on theleafless trees, big with buds, and on the tawny mat of grass throughwhich the blue noses of anemones were sticking. Cattle eagerly croppedthe dead grass and found it good, and men were at work in the fields. They all had homes and beds, Pearl thought, with a fresh burst ofhomelessness. 

She had prepared her blackboards for the next day, and made her desktidy, and was just about to leave for the day and walk the mile toMrs. Howser's to see if she could make it her abiding place, whenBessie Cowan came running with a letter. 

"Please, teacher, " said Bessie, out of breath from running, "Mathought this might be an important letter, and you should have itright away. It came in our mail. "

Pearl took it, wonderingly. It bore the official seal of theDepartment of Education. Only once had she received such a letter, andthat was when she received permission to attend the Normal. When sheopened it, she read:

"Dear Madam:--You have been recommended to us by the Principal of theNormal School for special work required by this Department, and wewill be pleased to have you come to our office inside of the next weekfor instructions. We will pay you a salary of one hundred dollars amonth, and travelling expenses, and we believe you will find the workcongenial. Kindly reply as soon as possible. "

Pearl's heart was throbbing with excitement. Here was a way of escapefrom surroundings which, for some unknown reason, were uncomfortableand unfriendly. 

Bessie Cowan watched her closely, but said not a word. Bessie was afair-skinned little girl, with eyes far apart, and a development offorehead which made her profile resemble a rabbit's. 

"Thank you, Bessie" said Pearl, "I am glad to have this. " She satat her desk and began to write. Bessie ran home eagerly to tell hermother how the letter had been received. 

Pearl decided to write an acceptance, and to 'phone home to her motherbefore sending it. 

When the letter was written she sat in a pleasant dream, thinking ofthe new world that had opened before her. "Travelling expenses, " had asweet sound in her young ears--she would go from place to place, meet new people, and all the time be learning something--learningsomething--and forgetting. 

Pearl winced a little when she recalled Mrs. Crock's words when shecame through Millford on her way to Purple Springs:

"The doctor should be the candidate, but I guess Miss Keith won't lethim. They say he's holdin' off to run for the Dominion House nextFall. You maybe could coax him to run, Pearl. Have you seen himlately? Miss Keith was down twice last week, and he went up forSunday. It looks as if they were keepin' close company--oh well, he'sold enough to know his own mind, and it will be nice to have theSenator's daughter livin' here. It would give a little style to theplace, and that's what we're short of. But it's nothing to me--I don'tcare who he marries!"

Pearl had hurried away without answering. Mrs. Crocks' words seemedto darken the sun, and put the bite of sharp ice in the gentle springbreeze. Instead of forgetting him, every day of silence seemed to lieheavier on her heart; but one thing Pearl had promised herself--shewould not mope--she would never cry over it!

She read the letter over and tried to picture what it would mean. Aglow of gratitude warmed her heart when she thought of the NormalSchool Principal and his kindness in recommending her. She wouldfulfil his hopes of her, too. She would do her work well. She wouldlose herself in her work, and forget all that had made her lonely andmiserable. It was a way of escape--the Lord was going to let her downover the wall in a basket. 

There was a very small noise behind her, a faint movement as if amouse had crossed the threshold. 

She turned quickly, and gave a cry of surprise and delight. 

At the door, shyly looking in at her, was a little boy of perhaps tenyears of age, with starry eyes of such brilliance and beauty she couldsee no other feature. He looked like a little furry squirrel, whowould be frightened by the slightest sound. 

For a moment they looked at each other; then from the boy, in atrembling voice, clear and high pitched, came the words:

"Please, teacher!"

The tremble in his voice went straight to Pearl's heart. 

"Yes, dear, " she said, "come right in--I want you--I'm lonesome--and Ilike little boys like you. "

His eyes seemed to grow more luminous and wistful. 

"I can't come in, " he said. "I can't come into the school at all--notthe least little bit--I have an ungovernable temper. "

"I'm not afraid, " said Pearl gravely, "I am very brave that way, anddon't mind at all. Who says you have?"

"The trustees, " he said and his voice began to quiver. "They sentmother a letter about me. "

"O, I know you now, James, " said Pearl, "come in--I want to talk toyou. I was going to see you just as soon as I got settled. "

Cautiously he entered; the out-door wildness was in his gracefulmovements. He stooped a few feet away from her and said again:

"Please, teacher. "

Pearl smiled back, reassuringly, and his eyes responded. 

"Did you get a place yet?" he asked eagerly. 

"No, I didn't, " she answered. She was going to tell him that she wouldnot need a place, for she was going away, but something stopped her. Somehow she could not dim the radiance of those eager eyes. 

"Teacher!" he cried coming nearer, "would you come and live with us?My mother is just sweet, and she would like to have you. She is awaytoday, to Millford, and won't be home till eight o'clock. I stayed athome because I wanted to see you. My mother watched you going to thehouses--we can see all of them from our house--and every time youcame away from them--she was glad. We have a spy-glass, and we couldsee--that's how we knew how nice you were, teacher"--he was almostnear enough to touch her now. "You can have my bed if you will come. "

Pearl wanted to draw him to her and kiss the fear forever from hisface, but she was still afraid he might vanish if she touched him. 

"My mother thinks you are nice, " he said softly. "We saw you pattingCowan's dog and walking home with the children. One day we saw youwalking home with Edgar Zinc. He held your hand--and my mother got tothinking that it might have been me that you had by the hand, andshe cried that day, and couldn't tell why. It wasn't because she waslonely--because she never is lonely. How could she be when she has me?She tells me every day she is not lonely. But we'd like fine to haveyou live with us, teacher, because you're nice. "

Pearl's arm was around him now, and he let her draw him over to her. 

"Tell me all about yourself, " she said, with a curious tugging at herheart. 

"We're orphans, " he said simply, "mother and I--that means our peopleare dead. We had no people, only just our daddy. We didn't need anypeople only him, and he's dead. And then we had Mr. Bowen--and he'sdead. Don't it beat all how people die? Are you an orphan?"

Pearl shook her head. 

James continued: "We're waiting here until I get bigger and mothergets enough money--and then we're going back. It's lovely to be goingback. This isn't the real Purple Springs--we just called it that forfun, and because we love the name. It makes us happier when we say it. It reminds us. Mother will tell you if you live with us. "

"At night we light the fire and watch it crackling, and I sit onmother's knee. Ain't I a big boy to sit on a lady's knee?--and shetells me. At Purple Springs there's pansies as big as plates--motherwill draw them for you--and the rocks are always warm, and the streamsare boiling hot, and nobody is ever sick there or tired. Daddywouldn't have died if we'd stayed there. But there's things in life noone understands. We'll never leave when we go back. "

The boy rambled on, his eyes shining with a great excitement. Pearlthought she was listening to the fanciful tales with which a lonelywoman beguiled the weary hours for her little son It was a weirdlyextravagant fairy story, and yet it fascinated Pearl in spite of it'sunlikeness to truth. It had all the phantasy of a midsummer night'sdream. 

The boy seemed to answer her thoughts. 

"Ain't it great to have something lovely to dream over, teacher? I betyou've got sweet dreams, too. Mother says that what kills people'ssouls is when they have no purple springs in their lives. She saysshe's sorry for lots of people They live and walk around, but theirsouls are dead, because their springs have dried up. "

Pearl drew him closer to her. He was so young--and yet so old--sohappy, and yet so lonely. She wanted to give him back a careless, happy, irresponsible childhood, full of frolicking fun and mischief, without care or serious thought. She longed to see him grubby-fistedbare-footed, tousle-haired, shouting and wrestling with her youngtykes of brothers. It was not natural or happy to see a child soelfin, so remote, so conscious of the world's sorrows. 

"Will you come with me now, teacher?" he asked eagerly. 

Pearl could not resist the appeal. The sun hung low in an amber hazeas they left the school and took the unfrequented road to the brownhouse on the hill--the house of mystery. 

The air was full of the drowsy sounds of evening; cattle returningafter their day's freedom in the fields, cow-bells tinklingcontentedly. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked; and on the gentlebreeze came the song of a hermit thrush, with an undertone of cooingpigeons. The acrid smell of burning leaves was in the air. 

The river valley ran into the sunset with its bold scrub-coveredbanks, on the high shoulder of which the railway cut made a deep welt, purple now with evening. Every day the westbound train, with its graysmoke spume laid back on its neck like a mane, slid swiftly around thebase of the hill until the turn in the river made it appear to go intoa tunnel, for the opposite bank obscured it from view. It re-appearedagain, a mile farther west, and its smoke could be followed by the eyefor many miles as it made its way to the city. This year it was theGovernment's promise that the river would be bridged at Purple Springsand the road made more direct. 

"Mother says no one could be lonely when they can see the trains, "said James Gray. "Mother just loves the trains--they whistle to usevery day. They would stop and talk to us only they're in such ahurry. "

When her young escort led Pearl Watson into the living-room she gavean exclamation of delight. A low ceiling, with weathered beams; afloor covered with bright-colored, hand-made rugs, bookcasesfilled with books, a few pictures on the wall, and many pieces ofartistically constructed furniture. 

"Mother makes these in the winter, she and I. We work all evening, and then we make toast at the fireplace and play the phonograph andpretend we have visitors. Ever since we knew you were coming you'vebeen our visitor, and now tonight I'll hide you, and mother will thinkI'm just pretending, and then you'll come out, and mother will thinkshe's dreaming again. "

Pearl helped her young friend to milk the two fine cows that came upto the bars expectantly, after which the evening meal was prepared, and Pearl was amazed at the deft manner in which the boy set about hiswork. He told her more about calories and food values and balancedmeals than the Domestic Science Department at the Normal School hadtaught her. 

"How do you know all this?" she asked him in surprise. 

"Mother reads it in books and tells me. Mother learns everythingfirst, and tells me--she is determined, " said the boy gravely, "thatI will have just as good a chance as other children. She says ifshe ever did anything that wasn't right, and which made it hard forme--she'll make it up. Mother says God is often up against it withpeople, too. He has to let things happen to them--bad things--but Hecan always make it up to them--and He will! Do you think that too, teacher?"

"I am sure of it, " said Pearl, with a catch in her throat and a suddenchill of doubt. Were there some things which even God could not makeup to us?

The fireplace was laid with red willow wood, and when everything wasready, and the hour had come when Mrs. Gray was expected home, Pearland James waited in the big chair before the fire, which dartedtongues of purple flame and gave a grateful heat, for the evening waschilly. They did not light the lamp at all, for the light from thefire threw a warm glow over the room. 

A great peace seemed to have come to Pearl's heart. The neighbors ofPurple Springs, with their inhospitable hearts, seemed far away andunreal. That thought in some occult way came to her with comfortingpower from the spirit which dwelt in this home. 

For three years no friendly foot had come to this threshold, no onehad directed a friendly thought to the woman who lived here, nor tothe child; yet woman and child had lived on happily in spite of this, and now to Pearl, on whom the taboo of the neighborhood had alsofallen, there came the peace of mind which could set quietly atdefiance the opinion of the little world which surrounded her. 

So intent were Pearl and James on the story that Pearl was tellingthey did not hear the buggy, which drove up to the house. Mrs. Graygot out and took out her parcels at the front door. The leaping flamesfrom the fire-place in the pretty room, made a picture she loved well. It was so significant of home--and it is those who have not always hada home who love it best. She stopped to watch the light as it dancedon the shelves of books and the brightly colored hangings and rugs. 

Seeing Pearl in the big chair, with her arm around the boy, AnnieGray's heart gave a leap of rapture. Her boy had a companion--a humancomrade other than herself. It had come at last! The dream had cometrue! She watched Pearl, fascinated, fearful. Was it a dream, or wasthere really a human being, and such a lovely one, a guest at herfireside?

With a quick movement she flung open the door James ran to his motherwith a welcoming shout. Then Pearl stood up, and the two women shookhands without a word. They looked long into each other's eyes; thenwith a quick impulse, and a sudden illumination, Pearl put her armsaround the older woman and kissed her. 

Annie Gray held her away from her, so she could look at her again. Then with a laugh that was half a sob, she said:

"Prayers--are--sometimes--answered, " and without any warning, surprising herself even more than she did the others--she began tocry. Three years is a long time. 

CHAPTER XIX

THE END OF A LONELY ROAD

When Pearl opened her eyes the next morning it was with a delicioussense of well-being, which increased as she looked about her. It mayhave been the satiny smoothness of the sheets, the silk eiderdownquilt, with its plumy yellow chrysanthemums, the pale yellow scrimcurtains, across whose lower borders young brown ducks followed eachother in stately procession; the home-made table with its gray linenrunner, across which a few larger ducks paraded, and which held alarge lamp, with a well-flounced shade; the soft buff walls, withtheir border of yellow autumn woods, sun-sweet and cool, withleaf-strewn paths that would be springy to walk on. It may have beenthese, for Pearl's heart could easily be set tingling by a flash ofcolor that pleased her. But there is no doubt the room had a presence, a strong, buoyant, cheerful presence. It had been furnished to defyloneliness. Who could be lonely looking down at a thick plushy rug ofwoolly white sheep, shading into yellow, lying on the very greenest ofgrass, beside a whimsical little twisting stream that you were justsure had speckled trout in it, darting over its gravelly bottom, ifyour eyes were only quick enough to catch the flash of them; and whowouldn't be glad to wash in a basin that was just lined with yellowroses, with a few of them falling out over the sides; and who wouldn'taccept the gift of a towel from a hospitable oak hand, which held outa whole bouquet of them--one on each finger; towels with all sorts ofedgings and insertions and baskets of flowers and monograms on themjust begging you to take your choice. And if anything else were neededto keep the heart from dull gray loneliness, or ugly black fear, onthe wall over the bed was a big gilt-framed picture of an amber-eyed, white-collared, blessed collie dog, with the faintest showing of hisred tongue, big and strong and faithful, just to remind you thatthough changes befall and friends betray and hopes grow cold, faithfulness and affection have not entirely vanished from the earth. 

Pearl's sense of freedom, of power, of comfort, seemed to increase asshe lay watching the spot of sunshine which fell on the rug with itsflock of sheep and seemed to bring them alive. The whole room seemedto fit around her, the ceiling bent over her like a kind face, the walls, pictures, and furniture were like a group of friendsencouraging her, inspiring her, soothing her. 

Pearl searched her mind for a word to describe it. "It feelslike--Saturday--" she said at last, "--freedom, rest, plans, ambitions--it has them all, and it has something deeper still init--it is like a section of a tree, in which history can be read, storms and winds and sunshine, " for Pearl knew instinctively that itwas a tower-room that Annie Gray had made for an armor for her soul, so it would not be pierced by the injustice and unkindness of theworld. 

"They do not understand, " Pearl said again, "that's all--they do notmean to be so horrid to her--it's queer how badly people can treateach other and their conscience let them get away with it. Even ifMrs. Gray had been all they said, she had not done any wrong tothem--why should they feel called upon to punish her? Well, I can tellthem a few things now. "

A fire burned in the fireplace, and the breakfast-table was set infront of it. Mrs. Gray, in an attractive mauve house-gown, came infrom the kitchen. She was a tall woman, with steel gray eyes, withpebblings of green--the eyes of courage and high resolve. Her featureswere classical in their regularity, and reminded Pearl of the faces inher history reproduced from the Greek coins, lacking only the laurelwreath. Her hair was beginning to turn gray, and showed a streak ateach side, over her temples. A big black braid was rolled around herperfectly round head; a large green jade brooch, with a braided silveredge, fastened her dress. Her hands were brown and hard, but long, shapely and capable looking. 

The boy was sleeping late, so Pearl and her hostess ate theirbreakfast alone. 

"Will you let me stay with you, Mrs. Gray, " Pearl asked, whenbreakfast was over. "I will make my own bed, keep my things tidy, trynot to spill my tea. I will wipe my feet, close the screen door, andget up for breakfast. "

Mrs. Gray looked across the table, with her dear eyes fastened on herguest. Suddenly they began to grow dim with tears. 

"Pearl, " she said, laughing, "I don't know what there is about youthat makes me want to cry. I've gone through some rough places in lifewithout a tear, but you seem to have a way all your own to start meoff. "

"But I don't hurt you, do I?" Pearl asked, in distress. "Surely Idon't--I wouldn't do that for the world. "

"Not a bit of it, " laughed her hostess, as she wiped her eyes, andthen, blinking hard to clear away the last traces of grief, she said:

"Pearl, before you come to board with me you should know somethingabout me; you have no doubt heard some strange things. "

Pearl did not deny it. 

"And you should know the whole story, and then judge for yourselfwhether you consider I am a fit person to live with. "

"But I do already, " said Pearl. "I consider you a very proper anddelightful person to live with. I don't want to know a thing aboutyou unless you care to tell me. You don't know anything about meeither--we both have to take a chance--and I am willing if you are. "

"But there will be an insurrection in the neighborhood. They won't letyou, Pearl. They can't forgive me for coming here without reference orcharacter, and with a child, too. "

"Well, he's a pretty fine child, " said Pearl, "and, I should say, asort of certificate for his mother. "

"Well, no matter how fine a child he is--no matter what care a motherhas taken in his training--nothing can atone, in the eyes of societyfor the failure of conforming to some of their laws. Society's laws, not God's laws. Society is no friend to women, Pearl. "

"But it is just because people do not think, " said Pearl, "They havemade certain laws--and women have not made any protest, so the menthink they are all right. "

"And do you know why, Pearl?" she asked. "Women who are caught in thetangle of these laws, as I was, cannot say a word--their lipsare dumb. The others won't say a word for fear of spoiling theirmatrimonial market. The worst thing that can be said of a woman isthat she's queer and strong-minded--and defies custom. If you want tobe happy, Pearl, be self-centered, virtuous, obey the law, and carenothing for others. "

"You don't mean that, " said Pearl. "You've been hard hit some way Ido not want to know until you want to tell me. But I am going to staywith you if you will keep me. I am determined to stay. "

Annie Gray's steely eyes clouded over again, like a sun-kissed lakewhen a cloud passes over it. They grew deeper, grayer, and of mistytenderness. 

"You are doing something for me, Pearl, that I thought could never bedone; you are restoring my faith. Remember, I have not been as unhappyas you may think. I had my happiness--that's more than some women cansay. I have had the rapture, the blessedness of love--I've hadit all--the rapture of holding and the agony of loss--I'm onlythirty-one, but I've lived a thousand years. But, Pearl, you've donesomething for me already; you have set my feet again on somethingsolid, and I am a different woman from yesterday. Some day I'll tellyou a strange story until then, you'll trust me?"

"Until then--and far beyond it--forever, " said Pearl. "I'll trustyou--I have an idea you and I are going to stick together for a longtime. "

Pearl went back to the school and found her letter of acceptance inthe desk. She tore it up and wrote another, thanking the departmentfor their kindness in offering her such a splendid position, butexplaining that she had decided to stay at the school at PurpleSprings. She made her decision without any difficulty. There was adeep conviction that the threads of destiny were weaving together herlife and Annie Gray's, and she knew, from some hidden source inher soul, that she must stand by. What she could do, was vague andunformed in her mind, but she knew it would be revealed to her. 

Pearl, child of the prairie, never could think as clearly when hervision was bounded by walls. She had to have blue distance--the great, long look that swept away the little petty, trifling, hamperingthings, which so slavishly dominate our lives, if we will let them. Soshe took her way to a little lake behind the school, where with theschool axe she had already made a seat for herself under two bigpoplar trees, and cut the lower branches of some of the smaller ones, giving them a neat and tidy appearance, like well-gartered childrendressed for a picnic. 

There were a few white birches mixed with the poplars, so delicatelyformed and dainty in their slender branches and lacy leaves, theylooked like nice little girls with flowing hair, coming down to bathein the blue lake, timidly trying out the water with their white feet. The trees formed a semi-circle around the east side of the lake, leaving one side open to view, and she could see the prairie fallingaway to the river, which made a wide detour at this point. 

Pearl settled herself in her rustic seat, putting the newspaper, whichshe had left for the purpose, behind her back as she leaned againstthe tree, to keep the powdery bark from marking her blue coat, andleaning back contentedly, she drank in the spring sounds. 

The sun, which stood almost at noon, seemed to draw the leaves outlike a magnet; she could almost believe she saw them unfolding; aboveher head there was a perfect riot of bird's song, and a blue-bird, like a burst of music, went flashing across the water. A gray squirrelchattered as he ran up a tree behind her, and a rabbit, padding overthe dead leaves on his way to the lake, made a sound like a bear. 

Up through the tree tops there had climbed a few blue rags of smoke, for behind her a sleepy prairie fire was eating backward toward aploughed fire-guard, and the delightful acrid smell brought back thememory of past prairie fires, pleasant enough to think of, as life'sbattles are, if they end victoriously. Not a breath stirred in thetrees, and the prairie fire that smouldered so indolently was surelythe gentlest of its race. 

Suddenly there came a gust of wind through the trees, which set themcreaking and crackling with vague apprehension, for the wind isalways the mischief maker--the tattler--the brawler who starts thetrouble--and the peaceful, slumbering absent-minded prairie fire, nibbling away at a few dead roots and grass, had been too much for it. Here was a perfectly good chance to make trouble which no wind couldresist. 

A big black cloud went over the sun, and all in a minute the placidwaters of the lake were rasped into a pattern like the soles of newrubbers--the trees were bending--crows cawing excitedly, and the fire, spurred by the wind, went racing through the lake bottom and on itsway up the bank toward the open country. The cattle, which hadbeen feeding at the east side of the lake, sniffing danger, turnedgalloping home to furnish an alibi in case of trouble. 

But the excitement was short-lived owing to a circumstance which thewind had overlooked. The wind had made a mistake in its direction, andso the fire had one wild, glorious race up the bank only to find itsnose run right into a freshly ploughed fire-guard, steaming damp andrichly brown. The fire sputtered, choked and died down, black anddisappointed, leaving only a few smoking clumps of willows. 

Then the wind, seeing no further chance of trouble, went cracklingaway over the tree tops, and the sun came back, brilliant and warmas ever, and there was nothing to show that there had been anyexcitement, save only the waves on the lake. The wind was gone, laughing and unrepentant, over the tree-tops; the sun had come back asgenially as if it had never been away--but the lake could not forget, and it fretted and complained, in a perfectly human way, pounding thebank in a futile attempt to get back at some one. The bank had notbeen to blame, but it had to take the lake's repinings, while the realculprit went free and unreproached. 

Pearl could tell what the lake was saying, as it lashed itself foamingand pounding just below her feet. It called to the world to listen. 

"Look how I'm used, " it sobbed, "and abused--and confused. "

Pearl put her hands in the silk-lined pockets of her coat, and thoughtabout what she had just seen. 

"Life is like this, " she said at last, "human nature is full ofmischief. It loves to start trouble and fan a fire into a destructivemood; and there's only one way to stop it--plough a fire-guard. I wishthere had been some one here to plough a fire-guard when the fires ofgossip began to run here three years ago. "

"I'll go now and dress up, and break the news to the neighborhood thatI am going to the house at Purple Springs to board. There will bea row--there will be a large row--unless I can make the peopleunderstand, and in a row there is nothing so sustaining as goodclothes--next to the consciousness of being right, of course, " sheadded after a pause. An hour later, Pearl Watson, in her best dressof brown silk, with her high brown boots well polished, and her smallbrown hat, made by herself, with a band of crushed burnt orangepoppies around the crown, safely anchored and softened by a messalinedrape; with her hair drawn over the tops of her ears, and a smartfawn summer coat, with buttons which showed a spot of red like apigeon-blood ruby. Pearl looked at herself critically in the glass:

"These things should not count, " she said, as she fastened a thin veilover her face and made it very neat at the back with a hairpin, "butthey do. "

CHAPTER XX

ANNIE GRAY'S STORY

The Purple Springs district was going through a period of intenseexcitement. Housework languished, dough ran over, dish-water cooled. The news which paralyzed household operations came shortly after oneo'clock, when Mrs. Cowan phoned to Mrs. Brownless that the teacher hadjust been in, and said she was going to board with the woman who livedalone. The teacher had said it, according to Mrs. Cowan, in the "mostoff-hand manner, just as if she said she had found her jackknife orher other rubber--just as easy as that, she said she had found aboarding house. Mrs. Howser could not take her, but Mrs. Gray could, and she was moving over right away. "

Mrs. Cowan, according to her own testimony, nearly dropped. She didnot really drop, but any one could easily have knocked her down;she could have been knocked down with a pin feather. She could notspeak--she just stared. She went all "through other, " and felt queer. 

"Do you know that woman has a child?" she managed to say at last, andthe teacher said, "Sure--one of the nicest I've ever seen--a perfectbeauty. "

Mrs. Cowan admitted to Mrs. Brownlees, who sympathized with her, thatshe did not know what to say then. 

At last she said, "But she has no right to have a child, " and theteacher said:

"Why not if she wants to. She's good to him, dresses him well andtrains him well. My mother had nine--and got away with it--and likesthem all. Having a child is nothing against her. " Now, wasn't that anawful way for her to talk?

Mrs. Brownlees said it certainly was fierce! and the other listenerson the phone, for the audience had been augmented as the conversationproceeded, politely said nothing, but hung up their receivers withhaste, and acquainted the members of their household with thedisquieting news. 

Mrs. Switzer threw her apron over her head and ran out to the pump, where Bill was watering his three-horse team. Bill received the newsin that exasperating silence which is so hard to bear. When urged foran opinion, he said crustily: "Well, what's the girl goin' to do? Noneof you women would take her--she can't starve--and she can't sleep inthe school woodpile. Mrs. Gray won't bite--she's a fine lookin' woman, drives a binder like a man, pays her debts, minds her own business. Idon't see why it wouldn't be a good boardin' place. "

In telling about it afterwards to Mrs. Howser, Mrs. Switzer said, "Youknow what men are like; in some ways they are hardly human--they takethings so easy. "

Pearl was surprised at the storm that burst, but soon realized thefutility of further speech. They would not listen--they were so intenton proving the woman's guilt, they would hear no defence. From whatthey said, Pearl gathered that they knew nothing about Mrs. Grayexcept what the sewing-machine agent had told them, and even he hadnot claimed that he had any definite knowledge. The worst countagainst her was that she would not tell anything about herself. That she would not tell anything about herself, could only have oneexplanation! There must be nothing good to tell!

On Sunday, at the little stone church in the valley of the river Pearltook her place among the worshippers. The attendance was unusuallylarge. A new bond of interest was binding the neighborhood together, and they spoke of it as they congregated in the church-yard before theservice. Pearl sat inside and watched them as they talked togetherexcitedly. Snatches of their conversation came to her. "Well-behavedpeople should stay with well-behaved people, I say"--this was fromMrs. Switzer. 

The men did not join in the conversation, but stood around, ill atease in their stiff collars, and made an attempt to talk about summerfallowing and other harmless topics. Their attitude to the wholeaffair was one of aloofness. Let the women settle it among themselves. 

From the window where she sat Pearl could see far down the valley. Theriver pursued its way, happily, unperturbed by the wrongs or sorrowsof the people who lived beside it. Sometimes it had reached out anddrowned a couple of them as it had done last year--but no one held itagainst the river at all. 

The rejuvenation of nature was to be seen everywhere, in springinggrass and leafing tree. Everything could begin life over again. Whywere the people so hard on Annie Gray, even if all they believed abouther were true? Pearl wondered about the religion of people like thegroup who were so busily talking just outside the window. Did it notteach them to be charitable? The Good Shepherd, in the picture abovethe altar, had gone out to find the wandering sheep, even leavingall the others, to bring back the lost one, sorry that it had beenwayward, not angry--but only sorry--Pearl hoped that they would lookat it when they came in. She hoped too, that they would look at thefew scattered tombstones in the churchyard, over which the birds weredarting and skimming, and be reminded of the shortness of life, andtheir own need of mercy--and she hoped that some of the dead, who laythere so peacefully now, might have been sinners who redeemed the pastand died respected, and that they might plead now with these justpersons who needed no repentance. 

But when the service was over, and a brief sermon on Amos and his gooddeeds, the congregation separated, and Pearl went back to the brownhouse with a heavy heart, and the cry of her soul was that God wouldshow her a way of making the people understand. "Plough a fire-guard, O Lord, " she prayed, as she walked, "and let these deadly fires ofgossip run their noses square into it and be smothered. Use me if youcan--I am here--ready to help--but the big thing is to get it done. "

Around the open grate-fire that night, after James had gone to bed, Pearl and Mrs. Gray sat long before the pleasant wood fire For thefirst time Annie Gray felt she had found some one to whom she couldtalk and tell what was in her heart, and the story of the last elevenyears was revealed, from the time that pretty Annie Simmons, freshfrom Scotland, arrived at the Hudson's Bay post at Fort Resolution, coming by dog-train the last two hundred miles to her cousin, thefactor's wife--the thin-lipped daughter of the Covenanters--who keptthe pretty young cousin closely at work in the kitchen with her potsand pans when the traders came in, for Mrs. McPherson had no intentionof losing Annie and her capable help after bringing her all the wayfrom the Isle of Skye. 

After a year of hard work, and some lonesome times, too, in the long, dark winter, there came to the Post a young trapper and prospector, Jim Gray. 

"When I saw him, " said the woman, with the silver bands of grayencircling her shapely head, "I knew him for my own man. He was talland dark, with a boyish laugh that I loved, and a way of suddenlybecoming very serious in the middle of his fun--a sort of cloudingover of his face as if the sun had gone under for a minute. "

She spoke haltingly, but Pearl knew what was in her heart, and herquick imagination painted in the details of each picture. She couldsee the homesick Scotch girl, in the far Northern post, hungry foradmiration and love, and trying to make herself as comely as shecould. She could sense all the dreams and longings, the hopes andthrills. 

"Tell me more about him, " Pearl urged. 

"He had the out-of-doors look, " said Mrs. Gray, "big, gentle, fearless. I knew as soon as I looked in his eyes that I would go withhim if he asked me--anywhere. I would dare anything, suffer anythingfor him. Nothing mattered; you will know it some time, Pearl, I hope. It brings sorrow, maybe, but it is the greatest thing in life. Evennow, looking back down these black years, I would do the same--I wouldgo with my man. 

"My cousin and her husband, the factor, forbade him the house when theysaw what was happening. They had nothing against him. Every trappersaid Jim Gray was straight as a gun-barrel. It was just that theywould not let me go--they wanted my work, but I had already worked outmy passage money, and considered myself free. They locked me in myroom at night, and treated me like a prisoner. They said abominablethings. 

"One night a tapping came at the little square window It was a heavy, dark night in July, with thunder rolling in great shaking billows. Itwas Jim, and he asked me if I would come with him. He had spoken tothe missionary at the post, who would marry us. Would I come? I didnot know whether he had a house, or even a blanket. I only knew Iloved him. 

"Under cover of the storm Jim took out the window-frame, lifted meout, and we were off through the rain and the storm. But when we gotto the missionary's he would not marry us--the factor had forbiddenhim. Jim would have taken me back but I was afraid. The factor hadsaid he would shoot him if he ever came for me. He was a high-temperedman and ruled the post and every one in it with his terrible rages. What would you have done, Pearl?"

"Was there no one else?" said Pearl, "no magistrate--no othermissionary or priest?"

"There was a missionary at the next post, sixty miles away. We couldreach him in two days. What would you have done, Pearl?"

Pearl was living with her every detail, every sensation, every thrill. 

"What would I have done?" she said, trembling with the excitement of agreat decision. "I would have gone!"

Annie Gray's hand tightened on hers. 

"I went, " she said, "and I was never sorry. Jim was a man of the bigwoods; he loved me. The rain, which fell in torrents, did not seem towet us--we were so happy. "

"At the missionary's house at Hay River we were married, and the wifeof the missionary gave me her clothes until mine dried. We stayedthere three days and then we went on. Jim had a cabin in a wonderfulhot springs valley, and it was there we were going. It would take usa month, but the weather was at its best, hazy blue days, continuousdaylight, only a little dimming of the sun's light when it disappearedbehind the mountains. We had pack-dogs from the post--Jim had leftthem there--and lots of provisions. I dream of those campfires and thefrying bacon, and the blue smoke lifting itself up to the tree-tops. "

She sat a long time silent, in a happy maze of memory. 

"I had as much happiness as most women, but mine came all at once--andleft me all at once. We reached the valley in September. I was wildwith the beauty of it! Set in the mountains, which arched around it, was this wonderful square of fertile land, about six miles one way andseven the other. The foliage is like the tropics, for the hot springskeep off frost. The creeks which run through it come out of the rocksboiling hot--but cool enough to bathe in as they run on through themeadows. Their waters have a peculiar purplish tinge, which passesaway after it stands a while, and a delicate aroma like a fragranttoilet water. I called it the Valley of purple springs'. "

"Our house was of logs, and built on a rock floor, which was alwayswarm. There were skins on the floor worth fortunes, for the animalscame to the valley in winter by the hundreds, black foxes and silver, martins and bear. They came in, stayed a few days and passed outagain. The ferns in the valley stood seven feet high, and the stalkswere delicious when boiled and salted. 

"Jim had planted a garden before he left, and we had everything, cabbages, cauliflower, beets, mushrooms. Jim got the skins hewanted--he didn't kill many--and we tanned them in the Indian way. 

"At first the Indians had been afraid to come. They called it 'TheDevil's Valley, ' and though the young bucks might come in and spend anight, just as a bit of bravado, they were frightened of it; but afterI came they took courage and came in. 

"We found out that the water in the streams had healing power, andmade one's skin feel soft as velvet, especially one stream which hadthe deepest color. One old squaw, whose eyes had been sore for years, was healed in three weeks and went back to her people with herwonderful tales of the valley. After that we had Indians with us allthe time. They brought their sick children and their old people, andthe results were marvelous. I never knew the stream to fail. Even thetubercular people soon began to grow rosy and well. The food seemed tohave healing power, too, and some who came hollow-cheeked, feverish, choking with their cruel paroxysms of coughing, soon began to grow fatand healthy. At first the sick people just slept and slept on the warmrocks, and then came the desire to bathe in the stream, and after thatthey went searching for the herbs they needed. 

"We lived there three years. At the end of the first year little Jimwas born--my precious Jim, with his wonderful eyes, reflecting thebeauty of the valley. The Indian women tanned the softest buckskin forhis little things, and he had the most elaborately beaded garments. No little prince was ever more richly dressed. He grew lovlier everyday. "

Pearl could refrain no longer: "Why did you ever leave?" she askedbreathlessly. 

"Conscience, " said Annie Gray, after a pause. "We couldn't keep it allto ourselves and be happy over it. We couldn't forget all the sickpeople to whom our purple springs would bring healing. Mind you, wetried to deaden our consciences; tried to make ourselves believe itwas not our duty to give it to the world. We fought off these spellsof conscience--we tried to forget that there was a world outside. Butwe couldn't--we owed a duty, which we had to pay. 

"One day, with our winter catch of furs packed on the dogs, we cameout. The Indians could not understand why we were leaving, and stoodsorrowfully watching us as far as we could see them--there was aheaviness on our spirits that day, as if we knew what was coming. 

"On the Judah Hill, at Peace River, came the accident. The train wentover the bank. When I came to I was in the Irene Hospital there, withlittle Jim beside me quite unhurt. But I knew--I knew. I saw in thenurses' face--my Jim had been killed. "

All the color had gone from her voice, and she spoke as mechanicallyas a deaf person. 

"He was instantly killed--they did not let me see him. 

"I went on. I knew what I should do. I would carry out as far aspossible what Jim and I had started out to do. We had filed on theland, and I had the papers--I have them still. In Peace River we hadsold the furs, and I had quite a lot of money, for furs were high thatyear. 

"Jim had told me a lot about his father, a domineering but kindly oldfellow, the local member of Parliament in a little Eastern town--a manwho had had his own way all his life. Jim had not got along well withhim, and had left home at eighteen. 

"I remembered Jim had said that he wouldn't tell his father about thevalley until he had talked it over with a lawyer and got everythingsettled, for the old man would run the whole thing. So when I went tohis home I said little about our valley, except to tell them of thebeauty of it. 

"I was very unhappy. He raged about Jim and his wild ways. I couldnot bear it. He knew nothing of the real Jim that I knew, the tender, loving, sweet-souled Jim. I could see how he had raised the devil inthe boy with his high-handed ways. 

"He was passionately fond of the little Jim, and foolishly indulgent. He would give the child a dollar for a kiss, but if he did not comerunning to him the very moment he called he would be angry. Yet Icould see that he adored the little fellow, and was very proud of hisclever ways. 

"One day he told me he was going to send Jim to a boy's school inEngland as soon as he was nine. I told him it could not be. Jim hadsaid to me that we would bring up our boy in the wild, new country, where men are honorable and life is simple. I would follow Jim'swishes--our boy would not go to England. I defied him. I saw histemper then. He told me I had nothing to say about it, he was hisgrandson's guardian. Jim had made a will before he left home, makinghis father executor of his estate. He told me the father was the onlyparent the child had in the eyes of the law, and I had no claim on myboy. 

"I had no one to turn to. Jim's mother was one of those sweet, yielding women, who said 'Yes, dear, ' to everything he said. Shefollowed him around, picking up the things he scattered and the chairshe kicked over in his fits of temper. Sometimes when he swore shedabbed her eyes with a daintily trimmed handkerchief. That was heronly protest. She advised me to say nothing, but just do whatever'father' told me, and I said I would see him in hell first, and atthat she ran out with her fingers in her ears. 

"Then a strange thing happened. McPherson, my cousin's husband, thefactor from Fort Resolution, met Jim's father at a lodge meeting, andtold him Jim and I had gone away without being married--the missionaryhad refused to marry us--and we had gone away. I think he knew better, for in the north country every one knows everyone else, and it waswell known that Jim and I were married at Hay River. He came homeraging and called me names. I'll never forget how they went crashingthrough my brain. He was a proud man, and this 'disgrace' of Jim's, as he said, was the finishing touch. But when he began to abuse JimI raged too. I said things to him which perhaps had better been leftunsaid. I was sorry afterwards, for Jim was fond of his father for allhis blustering ways. I did not tell him that Jim and I were legallymarried, for the fear was on me that he could take little Jim fromme, and it did not matter to me what they thought of me. I had onethought--and that was to keep my boy and bring him up myself--bringhim up to be a man like his father. 

"That night I left. I was proud, too, and I left money to pay forthe time I had been with them. I had a few hundred dollars left, notenough to take me back to Purple Springs. My first plan was to get ahousekeeper's position, but I soon found I could not do that--thework was hard, and Jim was not wanted. I worked as waitress in arestaurant, and as saleslady in a country store, but Jim was notgetting the care he should have. 

"One day I saw an advertisement in a paper. A prospector, crippledwith rheumatism, wanted a housekeeper. It said 'a woman with sense andunderstanding, ' and I liked the tone of it. It was blunt and honest. 

"When I went to see him I found a grizzled old fellow of about sixty, who had been most of his life in the north, and when I found he hadknown Jim, and had trapped with him on the Liard River, and knew whata splendid fellow he was, I just begged him to let us stay. He was asglad to get me, as I was to find a home. 

"I cared for him until he died. He was a good man, a man of the bigwoods, whose life was simple, honest and kindly. 

"In the little town where we lived the people gossiped when I came tohim. They wanted to know where I had come from, and all about me. Itold them nothing. I was afraid. I had changed my name, but still Iwas afraid Jim's father might find me. Mr. Bowen thought it would bebetter if we were married, just to stop their tongues, but I couldn'tmarry him. Jim has always been just as real to me as when he was withme. Mr. Bowen was kind and gentlemanly always, and many a happy hourwe spent talking of the big country with its untold riches. If I couldhave taken him to Purple Springs he could have been cured, but we knewhe could not stand the journey, for his heart was weak. 

"I went to night school while I was with him, and learned all I couldfor Jim's sake. But he died at last, and left me very lonely, for Ihad grown fond of him. 

"By his will he left me all he had, and the deed of this farm was partof his estate. So, after his death, Jim and I came here. Mr. Bowen hadadvised me to stay on this farm--he had taken it because there wereindications of oil, and he believed there would be a big strike heresome day. He also left me four thousand dollars, and I have added toit every year. Sometimes I've been tempted to sell out and get backnorth, but Jim is too young yet, I think, I should go somewhere andlet him go to school. I thought when I came he could go here. I haveonly one thought, one care, one ambition--I've lived my life--I've hadmy one good, glorious day, and now I want to see that Jim gets his. 

"It's a queer story, isn't it, Pearl? I ran away and got married, and then I ran away from marriage to keep my boy. I could prove in amoment that my marriage was legal, of course, the certificate is here, and the marriage was registered by the missionary, who has come backnow and lives in the city. But I dare not tell who I am--Jim does notknow who his grandfather is. "

"He surely couldn't take your boy, " cried Pearl. "There is no justicein that. "

"Only the unmarried mother has the absolute right to her child, " saidAnnie Gray, as one who quotes from a legal document. "I talked to alawyer whom Mr. Bowen sent for. He showed it to me in the law. "

"Peter Neelands was right, " said Pearl after a while, "it is exactlythe sort of a law he said the other one was. "

The two women sat by the fire, which by this time was reduced to onetiny red coal. There was not a sound in the house except the regularbreathing of little Jim from the adjoining room. A night wind stirredthe big tree in front of the house, and its branches touched theshingles softly, like a kind hand. 

"I'll tell you the rest of it, Pearl, and why I am so frightened. Perhaps I grow fearful, living here alone, and my mind conjures updreadful things. Jim's grandfather has moved to this Province from theEast. I read about him in the papers. He is a powerful man--whogets his own way. He might be able to get doctors to pronounce meinsane--we read such things. He has such influence. "

"Who is he?" asked Pearl wonderingly. 

"He is the Premier of this Province, " said Annie Gray. "Now do youwonder at my fear?"

Pearl sat a long time silent. "A way will be found, " she said. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE OPENING OF THE WAY

"I wonder where they are, " Pearl said to herself, as she lookedanxiously out of the window of the school on Monday morning. The roadsleading from the Purple Springs school lay like twisted brown ribbonson the tender green fields, but not a child, not a straw hat, redsweater, sun-bonnet; not a glint of a dinner-pail broke the monotonyof the bright spring morning. 

The farm-houses seemed to be enjoying their usual activity. Thespielers among the hens were announcing that the day's business wasoff to a good start, with prospects never brighter, dogs barked, calves bawled, cow-bells jangled--there was even a murmur of talking. 

"They are not dead, " said Pearl, as she listened, bareheaded, at thegate, "not dead, except to me--but they are not going to let thechildren come!

"They have turned me down!"

At nine o'clock, a flash of hope lighted up the gloom that had settledon her heart. The Snider twins, two tiny black dots, side by side likequotation marks, appeared distinctly against the vivid green of theirfather's wheat field and continued to advance upon the school-house, until they were but half a mile away. Then, noticing that no one elsewas abroad, they turned about and retraced their steps in haste, believing it must be Sunday, or a holiday--or something. 

They were quite right on the last guess. It was something. But noteven the teacher knew just what. The school room was clammily, reproachfully silent, every tick of the elm clock which told offthe time without prejudice, seemed to pile up evidence of a hostilenature. 

Pearl's brows were knitted in deep thought, as she looked in vain downthe sparkling roads. What was back of it all? What had she done, orfailed to do? Why did no one want to give her board and shelter? Thislatest development--the boycott of the school--was of course a protestagainst her association with the woman of Purple Springs. 

Pearl squared her shoulders and threw back her head. She rememberedthe advice she had given her young brothers, "Don't pick a fight. Don't hit harder than you need to--but when trouble comes, be facingthe right way. " She would try to keep her face in the right direction. Here was prejudice, narrowness, suspicion, downright injustice andcruelty--of this she was sure--there were other elements, othercomplications of which she had no knowledge. Peter Neelands hadtold her the Government was watching her, but she had not taken itseriously. 

She began to wonder if the invitation to work in the EducationalDepartment might not be a plan to get her safely out of the way untilafter the election. It seemed too absurd. 

Life was not so simple and easy as she had thought, or was it truethat the element of trouble was in her own mind. Did she attracttrouble by some quality of heart or brain. But what else could shehave done? Hadn't she told the truth and done what seemed right allthe way? But to be turned down in her school--left alone--boycotted. 

Pearl's depression, poignant and deep though it was, did not lastlong. There would be a way out--there was always a way out! She wouldbe shown the way!

"They that are with us, " said Pearl solemnly, struggling with a waveof self pity, "are greater than they that are against us. I wish Icould get them all lined up and talk to them. There is no use intalking to them one by one--they won't listen--they're too busy tryingto think of something to say back. But if I had them all together, I could make them see things--they would have to see it. They arepositively cruel to Mrs. Gray, and the dear little Jim--and withoutcause--and they should be told. Nobody would be so mean--if theyknew--even the old grandfather would feel sorry. "

When ten o'clock came, and not one pupil had arrived, Pearl decidedshe would go over to the post-office for her mail. There would be aletter from home, and never before had she so much needed the lovingassurance that she had a home where a welcome awaited her, even if theworld had gone wrong. The Watson family would stand by her, no matterwhat the verdict of Purple Springs. 

In addition to the home letter, with its reassuring news that fourhens were set and the red cow had come in, and the boys had earnedthree dollars and fifteen cents on their gopher tails, and thetwenty-fourth being a holiday. Jimmy would come over for her--inaddition to this, there was a large square envelope from the city. Theletter was from the Woman's Club, telling her that they were preparinga political play and wanted her to come at once to the city to take animportant part. They had heard of her ability from Mr. Neelands. Wouldshe please let them know at once?

A smile scattered the gloom on Pearl's face. Here was a way out. Wouldshe go? To play an important part in a play? Would she go?

Pearl went down the road on light feet, to where Mr. Cowan, theSecretary, was ploughing stubble. Mr. Cowan was expecting a call, anddreading it, for in spite of careful rehearsing, he had been unableto make out a good case. He was an awkward conspirator, withoutenthusiasm, and his plain country conscience reminded him that it wasa mean way to treat a teacher whom he--himself--had selected. But whyhadn't she accepted the offer to go to the city, and get away from aneighborhood where she could not be comfortable. Naturally, he couldnot urge it--that would give away the whole game. But he could hardlykeep from asking her. 

He resolved to say as little as possible, when he saw her coming. There was no trace of either gloom or resentment in her face when shegreeted him. Mr. Cowan was equally friendly. 

"I want to ask you something, Mr. Cowan, " said Pearl. "What is wrongwith me? Why don't the people like me? What have I done?"

Mr. Cowan had stopped his team, and lifting the lines from behind hisback, he wound them deliberately around the handles of the plow beforespeaking. His manner indicated that it was a long story. 

"Well, you know what women are like. No one can reason with women, and they won't stand for you boarding with Mrs. Gray. They're sore onher--and don't think she's just what she should be--and--"

Pearl interrupted him:

"But, Mr. Cowan, even before I went there, there was something wrong. Why wouldn't they give me a boarding place? You thought that I couldget a boarding place when you hired me. Come on, Mr. Cowan, you mayjust as well tell me--it's the easiest way in the end--just to speakout--it saves time. If you ask me not to tell--I won't. "

George Cowan did not expect to be cornered up so closely, and indesperation he said what was uppermost in his mind:

"Why don't you take the offer to go to the city, that's a greatchance. "

He had forgotten to be discreet. 

"I am going to, " said Pearl quickly, "that's what I came over to tellyou--I want to go. I wanted to ask you if it would be all right. "

"Now you're talking, " cried her trustee gladly--a great burden hadbeen lifted from his heart. "Sure you can go--it would be a, shame foryou to miss a chance like this. "

In his excitement he hardly knew what he was saying. This was justwhat he had been hoping would happen. Wouldn't George Steadman bepleased! He had given out a delicate piece of work to be done, and ithad been successfully managed. 

"You were just fooling us by pretending you were going to board atMrs. Gray's--weren't you? You knew all the time you were going to thecity; You were just playing a joke on us--I know. Well the joke's onus all right, as the cowboys said when they hanged the wrong man. "

George Cowan rubbed his hands; the whole world had grown brighter. Thepolitical machine was the thing--real team-play--that's what it was. It's hard to beat the machine--and the best of it all was, there wasno harm done, and nobody hurt. She would be as safe as a church whenshe was in the employ of the Government--and in a good job too--awayahead of teaching. No government employee could mention politics. Some people thought women were hard to manage! but it just required alittle brains--that was all. Diplomacy was the thing. 

"You are sure you don't mind my going, " said Pearl, "without notice?"

"Not a bit--and we'll be glad to have you back, say for the Fall term. I'll fix the salary too and make out your cheque for the full month. It wouldn't be right for us to stand in your way--of course you maynot want to come back--but if you do just drop me a line. I supposeyou will want to go home before you go into the city. I can take youover this afternoon in the car. "

"Thank you, Mr. Cowan, " Pearl said, "you are very kind. I'll be readyat one o'clock. But tell me--how did you know I had an invitation tothe city? That was pretty clever of you. "

Mr. Cowan was untwisting the lines from the plow handles preparatoryto making another round. He suddenly remembered to be discreet, andwinked one eye with indescribable slyness. 

"A little bird whispered to me, " he laughed. 

At noon, when he told Mrs. Cowan about it, he said it was queer howthat answer of his seemed to hit the teacher. She went away laughing, and he could hear her for fully a quarter of a mile kind of chucklingto herself. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE PLAY

"Sorry, sir, " said the man in the box-office of the Grand, "but thehouse has been sold out for two days now. The standing room has gonetoo. "

"Can you tell me what this is all about, that every one is so crazy tosee it?" the man at the wicket asked, with studied carelessness. Hewas a thick-set man, with dark glasses, and wore a battered hat, and amuch bedraggled waterproof. 

"The women here have got up a Parliament, and are showing tonight, "said the ticket-seller. "They pretend that only women vote, and womenonly sit in Parliament. The men will come, asking for the vote, andthey'll get turned down good and plenty, just like the old man turnedthem down. "

"Did the Premier turn them down?" asked the stranger. "I didn't hearabout it. "

"Did he? I guess, yes--he ripped into them in his own sweet way. Didyou ever hear the old man rage? Boy! Well, the women have a girlhere who is going to do his speech. She's the woman Premier, youunderstand, and she can talk just like him. She does everything exceptchew the dead cigar. The fellows in behind say it's the richest thingthey ever heard. The old boy will have her shot at sunrise, for sure. 

"He won't hear her, " said the man in the waterproof, with suddenenergy. "He won't know anything about it. "

"Sure he will. The old man is an old blunderbuss, but he's too gooda sport to stay away. They're decorating a box for him, and have hisname on it. He can't stay away. "

"He can if he wants to, " snapped the other man. "What does he careabout this tommyrot--he'll take no notice of it. "

"Well, " said the man behind the wicket, "I believe he'll come. Butsay, he sure started something when he got these women after him. They're the sharpest-tongued things you ever listened to, and theyhave their speeches all ready. The big show opens tonight, and everyseat is sold. You may get a ticket though at the last minute, fromsome one who cannot come. There are always some who fail to show up atthe last. I can save you a ticket if this happens. What name?"

"Jones, " said the gentleman in the waterproof. No doubt the irritationin his voice was caused by having to confess to such a common name. "Robertson Jones. Be sure you have it right, " and he passed along therail to make room for two women who also asked for tickets. 

The directors of the Woman's Parliament knew the advertising value ofa mystery, being students of humanity, and its odd little ways. Theyknew that people are attracted by the unknown; so in their advancenotices they gave the names of all the women taking part in the play, but one. The part of the Premier--the star part--would be taken by awoman whose identity they were "not at liberty to reveal. " Well-knownpress women were taking the other parts, and their pictures appearedon the posters, but no clue was given out as to the identity of thewoman Premier. 

Long before sundown, the people gathered at the theatre door, forthe top gallery would open for rush seats at seven. Even the ticketholders had been warned that no seat would be held after eighto'clock. 

Through the crowd came the burly and aggressive form of RobertsonJones, still wearing his dark glasses, and with a disfiguring strip ofcourt plaster across his cheek. At the wicket he made inquiry for histicket, and was told to stand back and wait. Tickets were held untileight o'clock. 

In the lobby, flattening himself against the marble wall, he waited, with his hat well down over his face. Crowds of people, mostly women, surged past him, laughing, chattering, feeling in their ridiculousbags for their tickets, or the price of a box of chocolates at thecounter, where two red-gold blondes presided. 

Inside, as the doors swung open, he saw a young fellow in eveningdress, giving out handbills, and an exclamation almost escaped him. Hehad forgotten all about Peter Neelands!

Robertson Jones, caught in the eddies of women, buffeted by them, histoes stepped upon, elbowed, crowded, grew more and more scornful oftheir intelligence, and would probably have worked his way out--if hecould, but the impact of the crowd worked him forward. 

"A silly, cackling hen-party, " he muttered to himself. "I'll get outof this--it's no place for a man--Lord deliver me from a mob likethis, with their crazy tittering. There ought to be a way to stopthese things. It's demoralizing--it's unseemly. "

It was impossible to turn back, however, and he found himself sweptinside. He thought of the side door as a way of escape, but to hissurprise, he saw the whole Cabinet arriving there and filing into theboxes over which the colors of the Province were draped; every lastone of them, in evening dress. 

That was the first blow of the evening! Every one of them had saidthey would not go--quite scornfully--and spoke of it as "The OldMaid's Convention"--Yet they came!

He wedged his way back to the box office, only to find that there wasno ticket for him. Every one had been lifted. But he determined tostay. 

Getting in again, he approached a man in a shabby suit, sitting in thelast row. 

"I'll give you five dollars for your seat, " he whispered. 

"Holy smoke!" broke from the astonished seat-holder, and then, recovering from his surprise, he said, "Make it ten. "

"Shut up then, and get out--here's your money, " said Mr. Jonesharshly, and in the hurriedly vacated seat, he sat down heavily. 

Behind the scenes, the leader of the Woman's Party gave Pearl herparting words:

"Don't spare him, Pearl, " she said, with her hand around the girl'sshoulder, "it is the only way. We have coaxed, argued, reasoned, wehave shown him actual cases where the laws have worked great injusticeto women. He is blind in his own conceit, and cannot be moved. Thisis the only way--we can break his power by ridicule--you can do it, Pearl. You can break down a wall of prejudice tonight that would takelong years to wear away. Think of cases you know, Pearl, and strikehard. Better to hurt one, and save many! This is a play--but a deadlyserious one! I must go now and make the curtain speech. "

"This is not the sort of Parliament we think should exist, " she said, before the curtain, "this is the sort of Parliament we have at thepresent time--one sex making all the laws. We have a Parliament ofwomen tonight, instead of men, just to show you how it looks from theother side. People seem to see a joke better sometimes when it isturned around. "

Robertson Jones shrugged his shoulders in disgust. What did they hopeto gain, these freaks of women, with their little plays and set littlespeeches. Who listened or noticed? No one, positively no one. 

Then the lights went out in the house, and the asbestos curtain cameslowly down and slowly crept into the ceiling again, to reassure thetimorous, and the beautiful French garden, with its white statuary, and fountain, against the green trees, followed its plain asbestossister, and the Woman's Parliament was revealed in session. 

The Speaker, in purple velvet, with a sweeping plume in herthree-cornered hat, sat on the throne; pages in uniform answered themany calls of the members, who, on the Government side were showingevery sign of being bored, for the Opposition had the floor, and thehonorable member from Mountain was again introducing her bill to givethe father equal guardianship rights with the mother. She pleadedeloquently that two parents were not any too many for children tohave. She readily granted that if there were to be but one patent, itwould of course be the mother, but why skimp the child on parents?Let him have both. It was nature's way. She cited instances of graveinjustice done to fathers from having no claim on their offspring. 

The Government members gave her little attention. They read theirpapers, one of the Cabinet Ministers tatted, some of the youngermembers powdered their noses, many ate chocolates. Those who listened, did so to sneer at the honorable member from Mountain, insinuating shetook this stand so she might stand well with the men. This brought ahearty laugh, and a great pounding of the desks. 

When the vote was taken, the House divided along party lines. Yawningly the Government members cried "No!"

Robertson Jones sniffed contemptuously; evidently this was a sortof Friday afternoon dialogue, popular at Snookum's Corners, but notlikely to cause much of a flutter in the city. 

There was a bill read to give dower rights to men, and the leader ofthe Opposition made a heated defence of the working man who devoteshis life to his wife and family, and yet has no voice in thedisposition of his property. His wife can sell it over his head, orwill it away, as had sometimes been done. 

The Attorney General, in a deeply sarcastic vein, asked the honorablelady if she thought the wife and mother would not deal fairly--evengenerously with her husband. Would she have the iron hand of the lawintrude itself into the sacred precincts of the home, where littlecherub faces gather round the hearth, under the glow of theglass-fringed hanging lamp. Would she dare to insinuate that love hadto be buttressed by the law? Did not a man at the altar, in thesight of God and witnesses, endow his wife with all his goods? Wellthen--were those sacred words to be blasphemed by an unholy law whichcompelled her to give back what he had so lovingly given? When a manmarries, cried the honorable Attorney General, he gives his wife hisname--and his heart--and he gives them unconditionally. Are not theseinfinitely more than his property? The greater includes the less--thetail goes with the hide! The honorable leader of the Opposition wasguilty of a gross offense against good taste, in opening this questionagain. Last session, the session before, and now this session, she hasharped on this disagreeable theme. It has become positively indecent. 

The honorable leader of the Opposition begged leave to withdraw hermotion, which was reluctantly granted, and the business of the Housewent on. 

A page brought in the word that a delegation of men were waiting to beheard. 

Even the Opposition laughed. A delegation of men, seemed to be an oldand never-failing joke. 

Some one moved that the delegation be heard, and the House wasresolved into a committee of the whole, with the First Minister in thechair. 

The first minister rose to take the chair, and was greeted with around of applause. Opera glasses came suddenly to many eyes, but theface they saw was not familiar. It was a young face, under iron grayhair, large dark eyes, and a genial and pleasant countenance. 

For the first time in the evening, Mr. Robertson Jones experienced athrill of pleasure. At least the woman Premier was reasonably goodlooking. He looked harder at her. He decided she was certainlyhandsome, and evidently the youngest of the company. 

The delegation of men was introduced and received--the House settleddown to be courteous, and listen. Listening to delegations was part ofthe day's work, and had to be patiently borne. 

The delegation presented its case through the leader, who urged thatmen be given the right to vote and sit in Parliament. The members ofthe Government smiled tolerantly. The First Minister shook her headslowly and absent-mindedly forgot to stop. But the leader of thedelegation went on. 

The man who sat in the third seat from the back found the phrasingstrangely familiar. He seemed to know what was coming. Sure enough, itwas almost word for word the arguments the women had used when theycame before the House. The audience was in a pleasant mood, andlaughed at every point. It really did not seem to take much to amusethem. 

When the delegation leader had finished, and the applause was over, there was a moment of intense silence. Every one leaned forward, edging over in their seats to get the best possible look. 

The Woman Premier had risen. So intent was the audience in their studyof her face, they forgot to applaud. What they saw was a tall, slightgirl whose naturally brilliant coloring needed no make-up; brilliantdark eyes, set in a face whose coloring was vivid as a rose, astraight mouth with a whimsical smile. She gave the audience onefriendly smile, and then turned to address the delegation. 

She put her hands in front of her, locking her fingers with the thumbsstraight up, gently moving them up and down, before she spoke. 

The gesture was familiar. It was the Premier's own, and a howlof recognition came from the audience, beginning in the CabinetMinister's box. 

She tenderly teetered on her heels, waiting for them to quiet down, but that was the occasion for another outburst. 

"Gentlemen of the Delegation, " she said, when she could be heard, "Iam glad to see you!"

The voice, a throaty contralto, had in it a cordial paternalism thatwas as familiar as the Premier's face. 

"Glad to see you--come any time, and ask for anything you like. Youare just as welcome this time as you were the last time! We likedelegations--and I congratulate this delegation on their splendid, gentlemanly manners. If the men in England had come before theirParliament with the frank courtesy you have shown, they might stillhave been enjoying the privilege of meeting their representatives inthis friendly way. "

"But, gentlemen, you are your own answer to the question; you are theproduct of an age which has not seen fit to bestow the gift you ask, and who can say that you are not splendid specimens of mankind? No!No! any system which can produce the virile, splendid type of men wehave before us today, is good enough for me, and, " she added, drawingup her shoulders in perfect imitation of the Premier when he was aboutto be facetious, "if it is good enough for me--it is good enough foranybody. "

The people gasped with the audacity of it! The impersonation wasso good--it was weird--it was uncanny. Yet there was no word ofdisrespect. The Premier's nearest friends could not resent it. 

Word for word, she proceeded with his speech, while the theatre rockedwith laughter. She was in the Premier's most playful, God-bless-youmood, and simply radiated favors and goodwill. The delegation wasflattered, complimented, patted on the head, as she dilated on theirmanly beauty and charm. 

In the third seat from the back, Mr. Robertson Jones had removed hisdark glasses, and was breathing like a man with double pneumonia. Adull, red rage burned in his heart, not so much at anything the girlwas saying, as the perfectly idiotic way the people laughed. 

"I shouldn't laugh, " a woman ahead of him said, as she wiped hereyes, "for my husband has a Government job and he may lose it if theGovernment members see me but if I don't laugh, I'll choke. Betterlose a job than choke. "

"But my dear young friends, " the Premier was saying, "I am convincedyou do not know what you are asking me to do;" her tone was didacticnow; she was a patient Sunday School teacher, laboring with a class oferring boys, charitable to their many failings and frailties, hopefulof their ultimate destiny, "you do not know what you ask. You have notthought of it, of course, with the natural thoughtlessness of yoursex. You ask for something which may disrupt the whole course ofcivilization. Man's place is to provide for his family, a hard enoughtask in these strenuous days. We hear of women leaving home, and wehear it with deepest sorrow. Do you know why women leave home? Thereis a reason. Home is not made sufficiently attractive. Would lettingpolitics enter the home help matters. Ah no! Politics would unsettleour men. Unsettled men mean unsettled bills--unsettled bills meanbroken homes--broken vows--and then divorce. "

Her voice was heavy with sorrow, and full of apology for havingmentioned anything so unpleasant. 

Many of the audience had heard the Premier's speech, and almost allhad read it, so not a point was lost. 

An exalted mood was on her now--a mood that they all knew well. Ithad carried elections. It was the Premier's highest card. His friendscalled it his magnetic appeal. 

"Man has a higher destiny than politics, " she cried, with the ring inher voice that they had heard so often, "what is home without a bankaccount? The man who pays the grocer rules the world. Shall I call menaway from the useful plow and harrow, to talk loud on street cornersabout things which do not concern them. Ah, no, I love the farm andthe hallowed associations--the dear old farm, with the drowsy tinkleof cow-bells at even tide. There I see my father's kindly smile sofull of blessing, hardworking, rough-handed man he was, maybe, butable to look the whole world in the face.... You ask me to change allthis. "

Her voice shook with emotion, and drawing a huge white linenhandkerchiefs from the folds of her gown, she cracked it by the cornerlike a whip, and blew her nose like a trumpet. 

The last and most dignified member of the Cabinet, caved in at this, and the house shook with screams of laughter. They were in the moodnow to laugh at anything she said. 

"I wonder will she give us one of his rages, " whispered the ProvincialSecretary to the Treasurer. 

"I'm glad he's not here, " said the Minister of Municipalities, "I'mafraid he would burst a blood vessel; I'm not sure but I will myself. "

"I am the chosen representative of the people, elected to the highestoffice this fair land has to offer. I must guard well its interests. No upsetting influence must mar our peaceful firesides. Do you neverread, gentlemen?" she asked the delegation, with biting sarcasm, "doyou not know of the disgraceful happenings in countries cursed bymanhood suffrage? Do you not know the fearful odium into which thepolls have fallen--is it possible you do not know the origin of thatoffensive word 'Poll-cat'; do you not know that men are creatures ofhabit--give them an inch--and they will steal the whole sub-division, and although it is quite true, as you say, the polls are only openonce in four years--when men once get the habit--who knows where itwill end--it is hard enough to keep them at home now! No, history isfull of unhappy examples of men in public life; Nero, Herod, KingJohn--you ask me to set these names before your young people. Politicshas a blighting, demoralizing influence on men. It dominates them, hypnotizes them, pursues them even after their earthly career is over. Time and again it has been proven that men came back and voted--evenafter they were dead. "

The audience gasped at that--for in the Premier's own riding, therewere names on the voters' lists, taken, it was alleged, from thetombstones. 

"Do you ask me to disturb the sacred calm of our cemetries?" sheasked, in an awe-striken tone--her big eyes filled with the horror ofit. "We are doing wery well just as we are, very well indeed. Womenare the best students of economy. Every woman is a student ofpolitical economy. We look very closely at every dollar of publicmoney, to see if we couldn't make a better use of it ourselves, beforewe spend it. We run our elections as cheaply as they are run anywhere. We always endeavor to get the greatest number of votes for the leastpossible amount of money. That is political economy. "

There was an interruption then from the Opposition benches, a feebleprotest from one of the private members. 

The Premier's face darkened; her eyebrows came down suddenly; theveins in her neck swelled, and a perfect fury of words broke from herlips. She advanced threateningly on the unhappy member. 

"You think you can instruct a person older than yourself, doyou--you-with the brains of a butterfly, the acumen of a bat; thebackbone of a jelly-fish. You can tell me something, can you? Iwas managing governments when you were sitting in your high chair, drumming on a tin plate with a spoon. " Her voice boomed like a gun. "You dare to tell me how a government should be conducted. "

The man in the third seat from the back held to the arm of the seat, with hands that were clammy with sweat. He wanted to get up andscream. The words, the voice, the gestures were as familiar as his ownface in the glass. 

Walking up and down, with her hands at right angles to her body, shestormed and blustered, turning eyes of rage on the audience, whorolled in their seats with delight. 

"Who is she, Oh Lord. Who is she?" the Cabinet ministers asked eachother for the hundredth time. 

"But I must not lose my temper, " she said, calming herself and lettingher voice drop, "and I never do--never--except when I feel likeit--and am pretty sure I can get away with it. I have studiedself-control, as you all know--I have had to, in order that I may be aleader. If it were not for this fatal modesty, which on more thanone occasion has almost blighted my political career, I would sayI believe I have been a leader, a factor in building up this fairprovince; I would say that I believe I have written my name largeacross the face of this Province. "

The government supporters applauded loudly. 

"But gentlemen, " turning again to the delegation, "I am still of theopinion even after listening to your cleverly worded speeches, thatI will go on just as I have been doing, without the help you sogenerously offer. My wish for this fair, flower-decked land is that Imay long be spared to guide its destiny in world affairs. I know thereis no one but me--I tremble when I think of what might happen theseleaderless lambs--but I will go forward confidently, hoping that thegood ship may come safely into port, with the same old skipper on thebridge. We are not worrying about the coming election, as you maythink. We rest in confidence of the result, and will proudly unfurl, as we have these many years, the same old banner of the grand oldparty that had gone down many times to disgrace, but thank God, neverto defeat. "

The curtain fell, as the last word was spoken, but rose again to showthe "House" standing, in their evening gowns. A bouquet of Americanbeauty roses was handed up over the foot-lights to the Premier, whoburied her face in them, with a sudden flood of loneliness. But thecrowd was applauding, and gain and again she was called forward. 

The people came flocking in through the wings, pleading to beintroduced to the "Premier, " but she was gone. 

In the crowd that ebbed slowly from the exits, no one noticed thestout gentleman with the dark glasses, who put his hat on before hereached the street, and seemed to be in great haste. 

The comments of the people around him, jabbed him like poisonedarrows, and seared his heart like flame. 

"I wonder was the Premier there, " one man asked, wiping the tracesof merriment from his glasses, "I've laughed till I'm sore--but I'mafraid he wouldn't see the same fun in it as I do":

"Well, if he's sport enough to laugh at this, I'll say he's some man, "said another. 

"That girl sure has her nerve--there isn't a man in this city woulddare do it. "

"She'll get his goat--if he ever hears her--I'd advise the old man tostay away. "

"That's holding a mirror up to public life all right. "

"But who is she?"

"The government will be well advised to pension that girl and get herout of the country--a few more sessions of the Women's Parliament, andthe government can quit. "

He hurried out into the brilliantly lighted street, stung by thelaughter and idle words. His heart was bursting with rage, blind, bitter choking. He had been laughed at, ridiculed, insulted--and themen, whom he had made--had sat by applauding. 

John Graham had, all his life, dominated his family circle, hisfriends, his party, and for the last five years had ruled theProvince. Success, applause, wealth, had come easily to him, and hehad taken them as naturally as he accepted the breath of his nostrils. They were his. But on this bright night in May, as he went angrilydown the back street, unconsciously striking the pavement with hiscane, with angry blows, the echo of the people's laughter in his earswas bitter as the pains of death. 

CHAPTER XXIII

COMPENSATION

The next day the Premier kept to his room, and refused to look at thepapers. The cabinet ministers telephoned in vain; he was out, themaid said. He hated them, every one--for their insane laughter theiridiotic applause--this disloyal attendance at such a place! He couldnot speak to them or see them. 

When his wife spoke to him, he snapped back at her like an angryrattlesnake, and asked her why she had never tried to develop a mindof her own. Her patience, submissiveness, the abject way she deferredto him and tried to please him--the very qualities he had demanded ofher, now infuriated him beyond words. He began to despise her for herspiritless submission. 

Fortunately for her, the days that followed took him away from home, and the household breathed easier each time he departed. 

"This settles it, " said Rosie, the housemaid, when he went out angrilyslamming the front door. "I will never marry a member of Parliament, no, not though he goes on his bended knee to ask me. I may not havewealth or fame--but I'll have peace. "

"Don't be too sure, " said the cook, who was Scotch, and aPresbyterian. "You can't be sure of any of them--they are all queer. You never know what a man will do till he's dead. "

The Woman's Parliament held sessions for three nights in the citybefore it began its tour of the country with every night an audiencethat packed the theatre to the roof. Each night the woman "Premier"took her curtain calls and received the bouquets which came showeringin, but not a word could the public find out about her. The paperssaid her identity would remain a mystery until all the engagementswere filled. 

On the last night, when Pearl went to her room--she was staying withthe President of the Woman's Club--a box of flowers was on her table. When she opened it, she found an armful of American Beauty roses, anda letter. Pearl's face went suddenly aflame like the roses, and ajagged flash of lightning tore her heart. He had not forgotten her!

Hastily locking her door, for no one must interrupt her, Pearl readher letter. She had faced three thousand people two hours before, buther hand trembled now as she read:

"I have been in your audience, Pearl, drinking in every word you say, rejoicing over you, loving you--but glad every minute that I playedthe game fair. You have won the election--of that I am sure--for youhave set the whole Province laughing at the old-style politician. Itis easy going for the rest of us now. Our old friend George Steadmanhas had the ground torn from under his feet. They all think you leftPurple Springs to take some gentle and safe job in the Department ofEducation, and are breathing curses on this mysterious stranger whohas upset the foundations of the Government. Driggs suspected as soonas he heard about the play, and he and I came into the city to see forourselves--we held hands to keep from disgracing ourselves last nightwhen you got up to speak. 

"The leader of the Opposition, who seems to be a solid sort of chap, would like to meet you when it is all over--he is well pleased withthe women's activities, and especially your part, and wants to meetyou personally. 

"I do not need to tell you, dear, what I think. I believe you know. I am in a mellow and pleasant state of being able to say 'I told youso. '

"I am not sending you roses because I think you are short of bouquets, but just because there are certain things a red rose can say, that Ican not. H. C. "

"And why can't you say it?" Pearl whispered, "and why don't you sayit, and me hungry for it. Who is stopping you from saying it--I'm sureit's not me. "

She threw aside her pride, and going to the phone, called the hotelwhere she knew he stayed. 

"Is Dr. Clay of Millford there?" she asked, trembling with eagerness. 

"Just a minute, " said the clerk. 

Pearl's heart was pounding in her throat, her ears sang, her mouth wasdry with excitement. She wanted to hear his voice--she wanted to seehim. 

It seemed a long, long time--then the clerk's voice, mechanical anddull as the click of an adding machine:

"No, Dr. Clay checked out tonight. "

Pearl hung up the receiver listlessly. The ripple of laughter andwaves of voices came from the drawing-room below. A company of peoplehad come over from the theatre, some one was calling to her outsideher door, asking her if she would come down. 

Suddenly it had all become distasteful to her, hollow--useless--vain--what was there in it?--a heavy sense ofdisappointment was on her. After all, was life going to disappointher, cheat her--giving her so much, and yet withholding the greatestjoy of all?

She caught the roses in her arms, and kissed them fiercely. "I loveyou--red roses, " she said, "but you are not enough. You do not saymuch either, but I wish you would tell me why he is so stingy withme!"

 * * * * *

In a week, the election was over, and the Government defeated. Thenewspapers, in red headlines, gave the women the credit, and declaredit to be the most sensational campaign the country had ever seen. "Thebarbed arrows of ridicule had pierced the strong man's armor, " oneeditorial said, "and accomplished something that the heaviest blows ofthe Opposition had been powerless to achieve. " Dr. Clay had defeatedGeorge Steadman by a large majority, and the Millford "Mercury" wasfree to express itself editorially, and did so with great vigor. 

The Premier had fought valiantly to the last, but his power wasgone--the spell broken--he could no longer rouse an audience with hisold-time eloquence. His impassioned passages had lost their punch, forthe bitterness, the rage which filled his heart, showed in his wordsand weakened them; and the audiences who before had been kindled withhis phrases, showed a disposition now to laugh in the wrong place. 

The week of the campaign had been to him a week of agony, for he knewhe was failing as a leader, and only his stern pride kept him going. He would let no one say he was a "welsher. " The machine worked nightand day, and money was freely spent, and until the last, he hoped, his party would be returned, and then he could resign and retirehonorably. He did not believe the machine could be defeated. They hadtoo many ways of controlling the vote. 

When the news of the Government's defeat began to come in from thecountry places--the city seats having all gone to the Opposition--theold man went quietly home, with a set face of ashy pallor. He walkedslowly, with sagging shoulders, and the cane which he used, did notbeat the pavement in rage, but gropingly felt its way, uncertainly, asif the hand which guided it was hesitant and weak. 

In his house on Water Street, a big, square brick house, withplain verandahs, the ex-Premier sat alone that night. A few of hisfollowers--the close-in favorites--had called to see him, but had beendenied. His wife, flutteringly made excuses. He sat in his big blackleather chair, looking into the fireplace, where no fire was kindled, and when one of the maids had come in to build the fire, he had gentlytold her he liked it better as it was, dull, bleak and dead, it suitedthe occasion--and she had gone out hurriedly, and in the kitchen burstinto tears. 

"It ain't natural for him to be mild like that, " she sobbed to thecook. "I'd rather have him damn me up and down. The old man's heart isbroken, that's what it is. He's sittin' there so calm and quiet--itwould make any one cry that has known him in his good days. I don'tbelieve we'll ever hear him rip and tear again--the blessed old dear. "

"Well indeed, I'll be glad if we don't, " said the cook grimly. "He'sraised enough hell in his time for one man, if he never does anotherturn at it. I've put up with him for over fifteen years. I saw himdrive out Master Jim, and Jim's poor wife, with the dearest little petof a grandson any man ever had. He was sorry enough after, but thatdidn't bring them back. I hope he will sit still for a while and thinkit all over, and give the poor missis a rest. She's been bawled at, and sworn at enough too, and her that gentle and pleasant. "

"She's cryin' in her room now, " said the housemaid, dabbin' hereyes with her handkerchief and wishin' he'd come up and rage overanything. "

"O, is she?" said the cook. "I'll bet she's not. The house is so quietit makes her nervous--that's all! But she'll get used to it. O no, Rosie dear, he's got his, and it's about time. I ain't worryin' overhim, for all I like the old man--but I believe the day of judgmentbegins here. He's reaping what he sowed--and all I wonder at is thatthe harvest has been so late. "

"That's all right for you--you're a Presbyterian, " said Rosietearfully, "but I belong to the Army. You know God's side of itbettern' I do, but we're all for the sinner, and I can't bear to seehim so quiet and mild. It's just like havin' a corpse in the houseto see him there in front of the dead fire; I wouldn't wonder if themorning light will find him cold and stiff in death. " Rosie's tearsgushed forth anew at this sad picture. 

"No chance, " said the cook, "I haven't cooked breakfast for him forfifteen years without knowin' him better than that. He'll come back. "

But the Presbyterian cook, so sure of her theology and her knowledgeof human nature, had no breakfast to cook for him the next day, forthe ex-Premier kept his bed, and declined to see any one excepthis wife, whom he did not let out of his sight. His gentleness wasterrible--he was even pleasant. When Rosie brought the mail to thedoor, he actually thanked her, which brought on another paroxysm oftears, and made even the cook shake her head doubtfully. 

He spoke little, and made no complaint. He was only tired, hesaid--just a little weary. No, he would not see a doctor--it was not adoctor he needed. 

Beside him sat his wife, the quiet, self-effacing little woman who hadhad no thought or ambition apart from him. Under half closed eyes, hewatched her, wonderingly. What were the thoughts of her heart--thisgentle-faced woman who had so tenderly cared for him, and put up withhim all these years. Many a time he had made her cry--he had drivenaway her son--and her grandson--and yet she had offered no word ofremonstrance. How old and sad she looked when her face was in repose. It was a face of deep lines and great sadness--a wistful, troubled, hungry face, but dominated by a self-control of iron power. She satbeside the bed, without moving; waiting, watchful. 

"You've been good to me, Jessie, " he said at last, as he stroked herhand. 

She started nervously. 

"Better than I have been to you--but I am going to be better--it isnot too late yet. "

With eyes of alarm, growing wider every moment--she watched him as hespoke. 

"I guess I needed a set-back, " he said, "and I got it--and I'velearned a lot in a short time. One thing was that you are more to methan I thought. My friends--in politics--were everything to me--butthey valued me only for what I could do for them. I could harangue thecrowd--gather in the votes--keep things going. I remembered every one, slapped every one on the back, called them by their first name--and itwent. But they laughed at me behind my back. Their only interest in mewas that I could carry elections. With you, it has been different. Idon't know why you stuck to me. Why did you, Jessie?"

Without replying, she hastily left the room--and phoned for thedoctor. 

The papers that night reported the ex-Premier's condition as "causinggrave apprehension to his friends. "

When Pearl read it in the evening papers, she made a quick resolve. Aletter must be sent to Purple Springs. 

When Annie Gray and Jim went to the post-office for the mail, two daysafter the election, they were not disappointed, for Pearl had written. 

"It is all over, " wrote Pearl, "and the Government has gone down todefeat. The new Government will make good its promises too. But I amsure from what I have heard and seen of your father-in-law, you havenothing to fear from him. He would not take little Jim away from youeven if he could. You can tell the people of Purple Springs all aboutyourself now, and wouldn't I like to see Mrs. Cowan's face when shehears who your father-in-law is?"

"Tonight's paper says he is not well, and I am wondering if you hadn'tbetter come in to the city, you and Jim. You will know best aboutthis. I feel sorry for Mr. Graham. He is a domineering old man, fullof prejudice and narrow ways. There could be no progress so long as hewas at the head of affairs--so he had to be removed. He held thedoor shut just as long as he could, and when the crash came, quitenaturally he was trampled on, and that is never a pleasant experience. But the whole thing has a pathetic side. I wish it could have beensettled without this. 

"The night of the election, women paraded the streets, singing andcheering, mad with joy, it made my eyes blur to see them. I am sorryit had to come to a show-down, for it seems to set men and womenagainst each other--at least, I know some men feel that way. Of coursewe had lots of men helping us--we could not have got far without them. Peter Neelands has been one of the best. He was elected in one of thecity seats, and we are all so glad. 

"Here are some stamps and two balloons for Jim. I do hope you willcome--. Lovingly, Pearl. "

 * * * * *

The winds of June, which whipped the dust of Water Street intominiature whirlwinds under the noses of the horses, were heavy withthe unmistakable perfume of wild roses. The delivery man, sniffingthe air, decided he would go that night to the Beach, just to see thefields of roses; the streetcar-conductor went suddenly homesick for asight of the poplar trees, with the roses on the headlands, and theplushy touch of green grass under his feet, and the wizened littleScotch milliner across the road took what she called a "scunner" atthe silk and muslin flowers, with their odious starchy, stuffy smell, and wondered where the farmer was, who two years ago had asked herto marry him. The wind--heavy with the perfume that stirred so manyhearts with longing, eddied carelessly into the garden of the bigbrick house with the plain verandas, doubling round to the gardenat the back, where, in an old-fashioned rocking chair with chintzcushions, sat the ex-Premier. 

The wind, still charged with wild roses, stirred the lilac trees andmountain ash, and circled noiselessly around the chair where he sat, and played queer tricks with his memory, for all of us are young inJune, when the pageant of summer is passing by. 

"I like to see you knitting, Jessie, " he said gently "it is a peacefulart, untouched by worldly cares. I wish I could hear hens cackling, and the drowsy sounds of a farmyard, all set in nature's honest key. I'm tired of people and machinery and telephones and committees, andall these other inventions of the devil. "

Rosie, scrubbing the veranda, hearing the last part of the sentence, piously thanked God for the master's returning health of body andmind, and flattened her head against the veranda post, to catch more. 

"The things I have given my life to, " he said sadly, "have fallen awayfrom me--I built on a foundation of sand, and when the rains descendedand the floods came, my house fell and left me by the ruins, gropingin the ashes. "

"It isn't so bad as that, James, " his wife said timidly. "You are arespected man still, you know you are--you have plenty of friends, ifyou would only let them come. It's no disgrace for a public man to bedefeated. "

"It's not that, Jessie, " he said. "It doesn't matter to me now whatthe world thinks, it can't think any worse of me than I think of it. No, the bitterest part of all this to me is that I have none of myown. I want some one of my own. I was too harsh--too hasty. "

"If Jim had lived, " she began, wistfully--

The front veranda bell pealed loudly, and Rosie hastily wiped herhands on her petticoat, and went to answer it, sorry to miss any partof the conversation. 

"I won't see any one, " said the ex-Premier, again. "She knows--Iwon't. Go and tell her I won't. "

When Rosie opened the door, a card was put in her hand, and thevisitor, a young lady, asked her if she would be good enough to giveit to the ex-Premier. 

"He won't see you, " said Rosie quickly. "He won't see any one. I amturning them away by the dozens. "

The visitor took the card from Rosie's hand, and hastily wrote a fewwords on it. Rosie told the cook about it afterwards. 

"She had eyes like a fairy princess, lips like cherries, and thenicest clothes, but you could tell she wasn't thinkin' about them. Ijust wanted her to stay and talk to me. 'Will you give this to him, 'she said to me, 'I'll wait here, and if he doesn't want to see me--itis all right--I will go away--but I think he will want to see me, 'says she, with a smile at me that made me want him to see her too, andshe sat down on one of the veranda chairs. 

"When I gave him the card, he read it out loud--ain't he the nicestever? Lots of people wouldn't have read it out. 'Miss Pearl Watson, 'says he, and what's this, 'teacher at Purple Springs, ' and he nearlyjumped out of his chair. 

"'My God!' he says, and he reached for his cane, like as if he wasgoing somewhere. 'Bring her here, ' he said, and his voice was morenatural than it has been since--it made me all prickle, " said Rosie. 

When Pearl was taken around to the back garden, Rosie retired to apoint of vantage on the sleeping-porch above, and got most of theconversation, by abandoning all scrubbing operations, and sitting verystill. 

The ex-Premier's wife arose as if to leave, but he motioned her tostay. 

"This concerns you too, Jessie, " he said. 

For a moment a silence fell on them, as the wind gently stirred thelilacs in front of them and a humming bird on silken wings wentflashing past, like a flower that had come alive. 

"You are a teacher, your card says, at Purple Springs. Is that in thefar North?" The ex-Premier endeavored to speak calmly. 

"No, " said Pearl, "it is only a hundred miles from here. "

His face clouded with disappointment. 

"But it was named for the valley in the far North, by a woman who camefrom there. "

"Where is the woman now, " he asked, with a fine attempt to make hisquestion casual. 

"I came to tell you about her, " said Pearl, with evasion. "That is, ofcourse, if you would like to hear. It is an interesting story. "

He motioned to her to begin, trembling with excitement. 

Pearl told the story that had been told to her the night she and AnnieGray had sat by the dying fire, told it, with many a touch of pathosand realism, which made it live before him. His eyes never left herface, though he could not discover how much she knew, and yet the veryfact of her coming to him seemed to prove that she knew everything. 

The old man's face twitched painfully when she spoke of the youngwidow's quarrel with her husband's father. 

"He was not accustomed to having his wishes thwarted, " said Pearlsimply. "He was a man whose word was law in his own household andamong his friends. But she had the freedom of the wilderness in herblood, and they quarrelled violently. He was determined to send theboy to England for his education. "

"He only said that--he wouldn't have done it--he loved the boy toowell, " he burst in, impatiently. 

"Well, of course, the young mother did not know that--not being amind-reader, she had no way of telling--and besides, he threatened totake the child from her altogether. He was his son's heir, and he wastherefore the guardian of the child. The law was with him, I believe, in that. That is one of the laws that have roused the women to take ahand in public matters. 

"So, to save her boy, to keep him for her very own--she allowed herfather-in-law to think she had not been legally married. She gave upher good name, to keep her boy. She went away--with only her two handsto make a living for them both. "

"Where is she?" cried the old man, with something of his oldimperiousness. 

Pearl did not at once reply. He should hear all of the story. She didnot minimize the hard struggle that Annie Gray had had in her attemptsat self support, even when she saw the old man wince. He got it all. 

"When she came to the farm on the Souris, she could not tell herstory--the fear was on her night and day that she might be discovered, and the child taken from her. "

"No judge in the country would do that, " he cried stormily. "She hadnothing to fear even if--if--"

"Unfortunately, " said Pearl quietly, "she did not know that. Shebelieved her father-in-law. She thought it was true, because he hadsaid so, and she knew that the illegitimate child belongs to themother, and to her alone, so she chose to let it stand at that. 

"The people at Purple Springs adopted the name she had put upon hergate--but ostracized her. The fact that she did not tell them anythingof her part, was proof to them she was not a good woman, and a manfrom Ontario, who knew something about the case, fed the curiosity ofher neighbors with gossip which confirmed their suspicions. "

"For three years she has lived alone, not a neighbor has come to herdoor--and she has kept herself and little Jim; has worked thefarm, educated her boy, for the trustees would not let him come toschool--kept sweet and sane in spite of it all. 

"When I went to see her, she cried with joy to see a human being ofkindly intention in her house. But the neighbors cut me dead, and keptthe children home from school because I went to live with her. "

A groan broke from him. "Poor girl!" he said brokenly, "Poor girl, shedidn't deserve that. "

Pearl's heart was softening, so she hurried on. 

"The little fellow got into a fight at school, because a boy saidthings about his mother. He is the sweetest tempered child I everknew, but he knew when to fight, and thrashed a boy a head taller thanhimself; and the trustees turned him out. "

"What kind of people are they?" he stormed. "It was a brave thing forthe boy to defend his mother--a brave thing I tell you. The other boyshould have been expelled--you are the teacher--why did you let them?"

Pearl let him rage, then very quietly she said, "It happened threeyears before I knew them--but you should not blame the boy, Mr. Graham, or even the trustees. They were under no obligation to protectthe woman or her boy. The boy's own grandfather had said much worsethings about her than the boy at the school. He not only insultedher, but his own son as well--when the rage was on him. So why shouldstrangers spare her?"

"Go on, " he said hoarsely, "let me hear it all. "

She was standing in front of him now, and her eyes were driving thetruth deep into his soul. Something about her eyes, or her voice withits rich mellowness, caused him to start and exclaim. 

"Who are you, girl--tell me, who you are--I have heard your voicesomewhere! My God! was it you? was it you?"

"Yes, " said Pearl, "it was me; and when the women of the city here, who had come to you and tried to break down your stubborn prejudices, tried to reason with you, but found it all in vain; when they told methat first night to think of some sad case that I had known of womenwho had suffered from the injustice of the law and men's prejudice, and strike without mercy, I thought of your daughter-in-law and allthat she had suffered. I saw again the hungry look in her sweet face, when I went to see her. I saw the gray hairs and the lines of sorrow;I saw again the heroic efforts she makes to give her boy everythingthat the world is bent on denying him--I thought of these things--andthe rest was easy. There was no other way, sir; you would not listen;you would not move an inch--you had to be broken!"

Speechless, almost breathless, he looked at her--all the fight hadgone out of him. 

"I am going now, sir, " she said. "I have delivered her message. Sheonly wanted to clear your son's memory. She will tell the people nowwho she is, and prove her marriage, for little Jim's sake. 

"Don't go, girl, " he cried, "sit down--tell me more. Tell me what theboy is like--how big is he?" "The boy is like you, " said Pearl, "atall lad for ten; clever far beyond his years. "

"Does he know about me--does he hate me--has she told him?" His voicewas pitiful in its eagerness. 

"Not a word--the boy has a heart of love, and as sunny a dispositionas any child could have. She has made his life a dream of happiness, in spite of all. "

The old man's face began to quiver, and a sob tore its way upward fromhis heart. His face was hidden in his hands. 

"Would she ever forgive me?" he said, at last, lifting his head. "Would she believe me if I said I was sorry--would she have pity on abroken old man, who sees the evil he has done--would the boy letme love him--and try to make it up to him and his mother? You knowher--why don't you answer me girl? Is there no hope that she mightforgive me?"

Pearl stepped back without a word, as Annie Gray came quickly acrossthe lawn. She had been standing in the shade of a maple tree, waitingfor Pearl's signal. 

A cry broke from Mrs. Graham, Jim's mother, a welcoming cry of joy. 

The old man rose to his feet, uncertainly holding out both his hands. 

"My girl, " he cried "I don't deserve it--but can you forgive me?"

And Annie Gray, who had suffered so bravely, so tearlessly, found herheart swept clean of resentment or bitter memory as she looked at him, for it was Jim's father, old, sad and broken, who called to her, andto Jim's father's arms she went with a glad cry. 

"Dad!" she said, "Oh Dad! Little Jim and I are very tired of beingorphans!"

And on the back veranda behind them, where she had been crouching withher ear to the paling, Rosie came out of hiding and burst out like awhole hallelujah chorus, and with the empty scrub pail in one hand, and the brush in the other, beat the cymbals as she sang:

 "O that will be glory for me, Glory for you and glory for me, When by His grace I shall look on His face, That will be glory for me!"

CHAPTER XXIV

HOME AGAIN

Quit your whistlin' Jimmy, and hold your whist--all of you--don't youknow your poor sister is dead for sleep. Hasn't she been up hill anddown dale this last six weeks. I never saw the like of it, and it's aGod's mercy she ever lived through it--and then last night when shedrove over from her school nothing would do your pa but she must talkhalf the night, when she should have been in bed. So now clear out youlads, and let's keep the house quiet, for Pearl is a light sleeper andalways was. "

"And a light stepper too, ma, for here I am--up and dressed, andhungry as a bear. " It was Pearl herself who opened the stairs' door. 

A shout of joy arose from the assembly in the kitchen, dearer to Pearlthan any burst of hand-clapping she had ever heard in a theatre, andthere was a rush for the first kiss, which Danny landed neatly, thoughwe must admit it was done by racing over his brother Patsey, who saton the floor tying his boot, and Patsey's ruffled feelings did notsubside until Pearl opened her valise, which stood inside the "room"door, and brought out jack-knives for the youngest four boys. Patseydeclared, still smarting over the indignity of being run over, andstood upon, that Danny should not get a knife at all, but Mrs. Watsoninterposed for her latest born by saying:

"O Patsey, dear, don't be hard on him. He was just that overjoyed atseein' Pearl, he never noticed what he was standin' on; anything wouldha' done him just as well as you. "

"I'll overjoy him, you bet, " grumbled Patsey--tenderly feeling theback of his neck, "when I get him outside. I'll show him what it feelslike to have some one stand on your neck, with heavy boots. "

Danny made no defence, but gazed rapturously on his sister, andexpectantly at the valise, whose bulging sides gave forth promise ofgreater treasures yet to come. 

"I have some things here for broken hearts and rainy days, " saidPearl, "that Ma and Mary will be placed in charge of. I believe askinned neck should qualify, so if Patsey Watson will dry his tearsand iron out his face and step back against the wall, close hiseyes--and smile--he will get a pleasant surprise. "

Patsey complied with all the conditions. Indeed, he not only smiled, he grinned, showing a gaping expanse in the front of his mouth fromwhich the middle tooth had gone, like a missing gate in a neat whitefence. 

When Pearl placed a box in his hands, which contained the makings andfull directions for setting up a red and black box-kite, a picture ofwhich in full flight adorned the cover, a war-whoop of joy rent theair. 

"Ain't you the luckiest kid!" cried Tommy enviously, as he crowded toget another look. "If there's anything goin', you get it. "

"Now clear out, all you boys, and let Pearl get her breakfast, " saidMary. "I haven't had a chance to speak to her yet, and I want to knowhow the girls are wearing their hair and how long a girl of sixteenshould wear her skirts, and lots of things. "

The boys departed to make whistles with the new knives, Pearl offeringa prize for the shrillest and fartherest reaching; to be tried attwelve o'clock noon, and silence settled once more on the kitchen. 

"It's sort of too bad you came home on Saturday, Pearl, " said hermother anxiously, as she toasted a slice of bread over theglowing wood coals. "The boys will pester you to death today andtomorrow--though of course I know you have no other time. "

"I like to be pestered, ma, " said Pearl, as she began on a generoushelping of bacon and eggs. "Home is the best place, ma, and I neverknew just how good it was to have home and folks of my own, as the dayI went to school and found no children there. Isn't it queer, ma, how hard people can be on each other. It makes me afraid God must bedisappointed lots of times, and feel like pulling down another floodand getting away to a fresh start again. 

"But I am not going to talk about anything--until I get back tofeeling the way I did when I went away. I want to see the hens andthe cows and the new pigs. I want to get out in the honest, frecklysunshine. Do the potatoes need hoeing, ma? All right, pa and I willgo at them. I like people, and all that, but I have to mix in lots ofblue sky and plants, and a few good, honest horses, cows, dogs andcats--who have no underlying motives and are never suspicious orjealous, and have no regrets over anything they've done. "

"But don't you like the city, Pearl?" Mary asked. "Don't you wish weall lived there? I do, you bet. "

"I am glad my people live right here, Mary, out in the open, wherethere's room to breathe and time to think. O, I like the city, withits street cars weaving the streets together like shuttles; I lovetheir flashing blue and red and green lights, as they slide past thestreets, clanging their bells, and with faces looking out of thewindows, and every one of the people knowing where they are going. Ilike the crowds that surge along the streets at night, and the goodtimes they are having. I like it--for a visit. It's a great place togo to--if you have your own folks with you--I think I'd like it--on awedding trip--or the like of that. 

"But I want to see everything 'round home, " said Pearl quickly. "Isthe garden all up, and what did you sow, and where are the hens set, and did the cabbage plants catch?"

"You bet they did, " said Mary proudly. "I transplanted them, and I putthem in close. Pa said I would need to take out every second one, butI said we'd try them this way for once. You know the way cabbagessprawl and straggle all over the place--all gone to leaves. Well, minewon't, you bet, they'll heart up, because there's nothing else forthem to do. Pa admits now its the best way. They've got no room togrow spraddly and they're just a fine sight already. Cabbages are justlike any one else; it doesn't do to give them too much of their ownway, and let them think they own the earth. "

When breakfast was over, Pearl, Mary and Mrs. Watson went out intothe hazy blue sunshine. The ravine below the house was musical withthrushes and meadow-larks. The blossoms had gone, and already the wildcherries and plums were forming their fruit. Cattle fed peacefully onthe river banks, and some were cropping the volunteer growth of oatsthat had come on the summer fallow. The grain was just high enough torun ripples of light, as the gentlest of breezes lazily passed. 

Pearl remembered the hopes and visions that had come to her the firstday she and her father had come to the farm, and through all itsdilapidation and neglect, she had seen that it could be made into ahome of comfort and prosperity, and now the dream had come true. TheWatson family were thriving; their farm had not failed them; comforts, and even a few luxuries were theirs, and Pearl's heart grew very softand tender with a sense of gratitude. 

It was not too good to be true, she thought, as she looked at thecomfortable home, the new barn and the populous farmyard spread outunder the quivering sunshine. 

"It was not too good to be true, " thought Pearl. "I can't complain, even if some of my dreams have failed me--and maybe--who knows?"

"It's got to come right, " she thought it so hard, she looked up to seeif Mary or her mother noticed. But they were busy with a hidden-awaynest, just found in the willow windbreak. 

The news of the neighborhood was given to her by Mary. 

"The Paines are putting up a new house, Pearl, and Mrs. Paine has somereal nice clothes, and they seem to be getting on far better. "

"That's good, " said Pearl, and then added, with such deep conviction, as if she were trying to convince some one, she said:

"There's nothing too good to be true. "

At noon, when all the family had been fed, and the horses were restingin the well-bedded stalls--John Watson gave himself and his horses atwo hours' rest in the heat of the day--when every one was present, Pearl told them something of her adventures on the six weeks of herabsence. Especially did she tell the young brothers of the lonesomelittle boy who had no playmates, but who loved his mother so much hewould not let her know that he was lonely. 

Patsey had a solution of the difficulty:

"Take me back, when you go, Pearl, and I'll play with him, and let himfly my kite n' everything. "

"O, he isn't lonely now, " Pearl said, "thank you all the same--but I'mgoing to bring him over in the holidays, for he needs to play withboys of his own age. "

"Danny better not run over him, and stand on his neck, though--heain't used to it--the way we are, " Patsy said, but was promptlyadvised to forget it, and let Pearl go on with the story, by Dannyhimself, to whom the subject was growing painful. 

"His grandfather and grandmother came out when we did, " Pearl said, "and they're staying at Purple Springs, and Jim and his grandfatherare together all the time. Mrs. Gray--her real name is Mrs. Grahamnow--doesn't want her boy brought up in the city, and his grandfatheris tired of the city too, so they're all living in the brown house, and every day's a picnic day. "

"But oh! say we did have one of the grandest picnics a week after wegot home from the city. On Mrs. Graham's farm there's a little streamwhich runs down to the river, and we got it cleaned out, and a big, long table made, and seats and all. Jim and his grandfather did thework--he was brought up on a farm, and can do anything. And the twowomen cooked for days, and I went round and asked every one to come tothe picnic--and I told them who Mrs. Gray was, and all about it. "

"Told each one in a secret, I suppose, and told them not to tell, "said her father, smiling. 

"I hope you rubbed it in, good and plenty, " said Mary, "about thembein' so mean and full of bad thoughts. "

"I did my best, " said Pearl, "especially with some of them who had hadso much to say, and they were keen to come, I tell you, to meet thePremier. That's what he'll always be called, too, and he sure lookedthat day when he sat at the head of the table, with the sunshinedappling the long table, with its salads and jellies and plates ofsliced ham, and all the people sitting around kind of humble andsheepish. He wore his Prince Albert coat and his silk hat. He didn'twant to--he thought it wasn't the thing for a picnic, but I held himup to it, for I didn't want the people to see him in his corduroyhunting suit. I know how impressed they would be with the fineclothes, and I was determined they should have every thrill. 

"So he put on all his good clothes, even to his gray spats. I had toargue a long time to get them on him. He said they looked foppish, butI just got the button-hook and put them on him while he was arguing, and asked him who thought of this picnic anyway! and he just laughedand said he guessed he had to pass under the rod. 

"And after all the people had been introduced, and the men werestanding back, pretty hot and uncomfortable in their white shirts, hegot up and asked every one to have a seat at the table, for he wantedto say a few words before we began to eat. 

"You could have heard a leaf fall, it was so still, and then he toldthem all about his son, and how he didn't understand him, and nevermade a chum of him, and how he was so taken up with politics he forgotto be a father to his own boy. And he told about his son's marriage, and the whole story, right up to the time I went to see him in thecity. "

"'It's not easy telling this, ' he said, 'but I put my daughter-in-lawin wrong in this neighborhood, and I am going to make it right if Ican. She is a noble, brave woman, ' he said, 'and I am proud of her. Ilost the election, ' he continued, 'but I am glad of it, for in losingit, I found a daughter and a grandson, ' and then he put his hand on myshoulder and said, 'and here's the deepest conspirator in the country, who managed the whole thing. This is the girl who made fun of me, andlambasted me, but who brought my daughter-in-law and me together, and when she runs for the Legislature, I promise I will get out andcampaign for her. '

"Every one laughed then, and the people crowded up around him, andAnnie, and you never saw so many people laughing and crying at the onetime in your life. 

"We had a big boiler of coffee on the little tin stove in the trees, and I grabbed off the white pitchers, and the biggest girls from theschool helped serve, and we got the people all started in to eat, forit doesn't do to let people's feelings go too far. 

"When they had quieted down a little, and were nearly through eating, the minister, who was at the other end of the table, got up and saidhe had an idea he wanted to pass on. 

"'I'm ashamed, ' he said--and I know he was--'of the way this communityhas treated Mrs. Gray and Jimmy, '--he didn't seem able to call heranything else either. 'On behalf of the district of Purple Springs, Iapologize. We'll show our apology in something better than words, too, I hope, ' he said, kind of swallowing his Adam's apple. 'We denied herchild the right to play with our children, through our stupid andcruel thoughtlessness, now let us apologize by doing something for allthe children of this neighborhood. This is a beautiful spot, a naturalpark; let us make it the Jim Gray Playgrounds, with swings, andsand-pile and acting bars and swimming pool, with a baseball ground upon the hill; where all our children, young people and old people too, can gather and be young and human and sociable together. '

"The people broke out into cheers and cries of 'We'll do it!' Itseemed to relieve them. 

"'And let us hold our church service here on Sundays, too, when theweather is fine. Our religion has been too stuffy, too mouldy, toodamp, too narrow. It needs the sunshine and the clear air of heaven tosweeten it and revive it. I feel it today, that God is in the sunshinemore than in the narrow limits we have tried to set upon Him. '

"'We sometimes deplore the tendency of our young people to go to thecity, ' he continued, 'but I don't know as I blame them. We've beenliving dull, drab lives for sure. Let us liven things up a bit, andgive our people something to look forward to during the week, andsomething pleasant to remember. It's the utter dreariness of life thatkills people--not hard work. '

"And then, " said Pearl, "I could see the people wanted to sing or cry, or dance, or something, to work off their emotions; so I signalled toBessie Cowan, who is one of our best singers, to start a hymn that thechildren sing every morning. They knew it well, and the people hadlearned it from them. I never heard anything like it. It flashed upthrough the highest branches of the trees, into the blue air. I amsure God heard it, and was pleased:

 "God is in His temple Let the earth keep silent. "

"Little Jim knew it too, and his voice was sweeter than all the rest. It seemed easy for every one to talk or sing or laugh--or do whateverthey wanted to do. It was wonderful to see people come out of theirhard brown husks and be natural and neighborly. "

"Sure, and it was more like a revival meetin' than a picnic, Pearlie, "said her father, laughing. 

"It was that, pa, " she answered, "and like a term in a reform schoolfor some of them. There had been a big quarrel among them about aroad-scraper, and the next day every one was offering to wait, insteadof grabbing at it the way they had been; and the women who had fallenout over a sleeve pattern and fought rings round, and called eachother everything they could name, made it up right there. 

"Before they parted, they agreed to have the services there onSunday--that's tomorrow, and the ex-Premier is going to speak afterthe service on 'How to Build a Community. ' All the women are baking, and everybody will bring their visitors, instead of staying home fromchurch the way they've been doing, and the children can play in thesand-pile, and sail their boats on the little creek, and it looks asif Purple Springs has experienced a change of heart. "

"Don't you think there's a danger of leadin' them to thinkin' toolight of the Lord's day, Pearlie, picknicking that way, " asked hermother anxiously, "and maybe makin' them lose their religion?"

"O, I'm not worried about that neighborhood losing its religion, ma, "said Pearl. "Any neighborhood that could treat a stranger the waythey did! But I do believe the sunshine and blue sky, the flowers andbirds, and the getting together, along with the words of the sermonand the hymns they'll sing, will make them a lot more human. I nevercan think it would hurt God's feelings a bit to see children playing, and neighbors happy together on His day. 

"They want us all to come; if you don't think it's too far to drivewith the whole family, and I've been training the children all week tosing--it looks like a good time. "

"We'll go!" cried Danny and Patsey, with one voice, and with brotherlyunity prevailing--for once. 

CHAPTER XXV

"THERE IS NOTHING TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE"

"O don't touch it--it hurts, " Danny wailed, when Pearl examined hisgrimy little foot, from which a trickle of blood was showing throughthe murk of prairie soil. 

"Just let me wash it, dear, " said Pearl soothingly. "We cannot tellhow badly you are hurt until we get the dirt off. It may not be so badat all. "

This was the afternoon of the same day. 

Danny's tears came in torrents. "It is bad, " he sobbed. "It's theworst sliver there's ever been in this family--or maybe in theseparts. "

"Well now, maybe it is. I wouldn't wonder if we'll have to send forthe doctor, " said Pearl, "and that will be one on Patsey--he neverhad a doctor in his life--and maybe never will. Just let me see howserious it is--and I'll promise you if I can't pull it out with myfingers--the doctor will be phoned for at once, and told to hurry. "

With this promise to sustain him, Danny bravely submitted to athoroughly good washing of the afflicted member, and even thecleansing of the other, for Pearl explained to him that feet came inpairs, and had to be treated alike in matters of washing. 

But the sliver refused to move, though Pearl appeared to try to pullit out. 

"Send for the doctor, Pearl, " Danny gasped. "I'm getting weakerevery minute, and everything is goin' from me--and now its gettin'dark--can't some of yez light a lamp?"

Danny had heard his mother tell so many times the story of hisgrandfather's last moments--it came easily to him now, and he revelledin the sensation he was making. 

"Rouse yourself, Danny dear, " his mother cried tearfully, "speak tous, darlin' and don't let yourself go to sleep--I'm feart it's gone tohis heart. "

"It couldn't, ma, " said Pearl, "it's only a sliver--it's not atelephone pole--a dash of cold water in the face will bring him back. "

Danny suddenly returned to the earth, that his young soul seemed aboutto spurn, and the look he gave his sister was at once an appeal and areproach. 

"Haven't you anything in your rainy-day box that's good for slivers?"he asked. 

"Sure there is, " said Pearl, "I think in a case of this kind, anaccident that calls for medical treatment entitles its owner to a verysubstantial donation from the emergency chest. Mary, will you pleasemake a selection, while I go and phone, and remember, your youngestbrother is grievously wounded; do your best for him. "

Pearl went to the phone, with a curiously lightened heart. At leastshe would hear him speak--she would see him. Not once had she seen himsince the day she had been in his office. Not once--and that was threemonths ago. Three months, which seemed like three years!

"Give me twenty-one, please Central, " she said steadily. 

She knew the way he took off the receiver. 

"Dr. Clay, this is Pearl speaking, " she hurried on, without giving himtime for reply. "Danny has a sliver in his foot, and we want you tocome out. Can you come?"

"Right away, " he answered. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. Is itvery bad, Pearl?"

"No, not very--I nearly got it out myself. "

"Well, I'm glad you didn't, "--his voice was eager. 

"But he wanted you--"

"Good for Danny--he was always a wise child. "

When the patient was made comfortable in a rocking-chair, with apackage of Japanese water "Flowers" and a cup of water in which toexpand them, as a means of keeping his mind from despair, Pearl madea hurried survey of herself in the mirror, and pulled her brown hairinto curls over her ears. 

"Ears are not good this year, Mary, " she laughed. "They must not beseen. "

A roar of pain from Danny brought her flying back to him. 

"Stay with me Pearl, " he shouted, "I'm a sick man, and tell the kidsto keep quiet--it jars me--I can't stand it--it makes me all go cold!"

Pearl sat down beside him, making a rather unsuccessful effort to bebecomingly solemn. Mary hushed the shouts of the others, whowere quite ready to be thrilled by their brother's precariouscondition--and when the doctor came in, the Watson brothers assembledto hear the verdict. 

"He will recover, " said the doctor. "Not only recover, but regain thefull use of the injured member. But it's a bad, bad sliver just thesame, and some boys would cry if they had it. "

Danny set his lips tightly together, as one who was determined toendure to the end. 

Very tenderly the doctor took him on his knee, and examined the littlefoot. "I'll have a basin of water, Pearl, please, " he said. 

"It has been washed, " Danny cried, with indignation. "Pearl washedboth of them. "

"Sure enough, " the doctor said, "but you just watch and see what I amgoing to do. "

The doctor opened his black bag to get out a lance, the sight of whichwas too much for Danny's reserve of courage, and in spite of his braveefforts, the tears burst forth. 

The doctor laid the lance back in the bag, and said, "Now Danny, I amgoing to tell you a real true story, and we won't touch your foot atall, unless you ask me to. 

"There's a bad, bold sliver about this long, that ran into DannyWatson's foot. No one asked the sliver to go in--no one wanted it--butit went. Danny's foot does not like it--and every nerve is crying'Pull it out--pull it out, ' and the blood has gathered round to seewhat's wrong, just like a crowd of people on the street, growingbigger every minute, so Danny's foot is beginning to swell and get redand hot. 

"Now, if we leave the sliver alone, the foot will get it out its ownway, but it will take a long time. The foot will get redder, hotter, sorer. It will be very stiff, and Danny will not be able to walk onit. And even after the sliver works out, it will take quite a whileto heal, and there may be an ugly mark here for a long time. Still, that's one way to get rid of slivers. 

"There's another way. It is to let me cut the skin with this sharpknife--sharp like a razor-blade--and then take these little tweezers, catch the end of the sliver, and give one quick jerk. Then we'llput your foot in the warm water and let all the blood that has beengathering to see what was wrong, run away, and then we'll put onsomething nice and soft, and some absorbent cotton, and make a finebandage, and about tomorrow it will be as good as the other one. 

"Which way will we do it, Danny?"

Danny had followed every word of the story, his eyes meeting thedoctor's calmly. 

"Which way, Danny?" the doctor repeated. 

Danny buried his head in the doctor's shoulder, and said one word:

"Jerk!"

In a few minutes it was all over, and Danny, looking a little pale, with his foot resting on a pillow, was taken for a ride in the newwheelbarrow, well padded with fresh hay by his thoroughly concernedand solicitous young brothers. Danny, knowing the transitory nature ofhis popularity, was not too overcome by his recent operation to acceptpromptly the presents his brothers offered, and did so with a sweetlywan and patient smile which kindled a noble rivalry in the matter ofgifts. Patsey, now very repentant, brought his catapult, Bugsey hisalleys, his loveliest "pure, " and the recumbent lamb set in a ball ofclear glass; Tommy surrendered his pair of knobbies. Their mother, watching the procession leaving the gate, was moved almost to tears bythese expressions of brotherly love. 

"They fight and squabble and jander at each other, but when troublecomes, they cling together. That's what the psalmist means when hesays 'A brother is born for adversity. ' It's the day of trouble thatproves what your own mean to you. "

Mary and her mother were at the kitchen door, having come out to getthe patient properly started for his ride. 

"I never knew it meant that, ma, " said Mary, "but that's a nicemeaning anyway. "

She looked into the living-room, where Pearl and the doctor satwithout speaking, and just as her mother was about to go to join them, she said:

"I believe there's cream for a churnin', ma, it will be too sourbefore Monday. If you come out and stay with me, I'll do it, but Ihate to work alone. "

As she flung the cream from end to end of the barrel-churn, while hermother sat beside her mending the boys' shirts for the Sabbath, Marysaid to herself:

"A sister is born for adversity, too--you bet. " Meanwhile, the doctorand Pearl, left alone, had broken the silence which fell upon them atfirst. 

"Come out for a ride, Pearl, " he said at last. "Saturday is theteacher's happy day, and I haven't seen you for months--not to speakto you--and I want to hear all about what you've been doing. Youhaven't told me yet that you are glad I was elected. "

"But I wrote you a note, didn't I?"

"Oh yes indeed, you did, " he agreed, "but you know even the best notesin the world lack color--or something. "

"Even roses, " said Pearl, "lack something too, though it isn't color. "

"You will come, won't you, Pearl?" he urged. 

Pearl sat on the flowered lounge, looking at him intently. 

"Just wait a minute, doctor, " she said, "your explanation of sliversand their treatment interests me very much. I think I had betterconsult you now as my physician. I have never had a physician, but itwould no doubt be you if I should need one. "

"Thank you, Miss Watson, " he said, quite gravely, "I appreciate thecompliment, " and waited for her to speak. 

"I have a sliver, too, " she said at last. "No, not in my foot. It isin my heart, and I am afraid I have been trying the foolish way ofletting it work out. You are quite right in saying it is slow, andpainful--and attracts attention to itself. It does. Now that day, thesecond day of March, you and I had some serious conversation. I didn'tunderstand why you said what you did. I don't yet. I am sure yousaid what you thought you should say. You may have been telling thetruth--or if not, something you considered better than the truth, easier, more comfortable, less painful. "

"Sometimes a very bitter thought comes to me--a sore thought--it isthe sliver. I am not trying to be tactful now, just truthful. Tact andtruth do not always combine naturally. This is one of the times. I amgoing to ask you something--but, don't speak until I am all done. "

Here Pearl straightened her fine young shoulders, and her eyes grewvery dark and luminous. 

"Was it really because you think I am too young to know my own mind, that you spoke as you did, or is there another reason?"

She was looking into his eyes with such intensity, with suchdirectness, that he knew he was going to tell her everything. Itseemed as if she must read whatever was in his heart. 

"My people are common, working people, " she went on--and her head washeld very high now, and her voice, all silver as it was, had an innerfoundation of steel, like the famous silverware. "My people havealways worked for a living. They are honest, kindly, honorable people, but they are what the vulgar would call--and do call--people who haveno 'class. ' My father eats with his knife; my mother does not knowanything about having her subject and predicate agree in certain finepoints in which subjects and predicates are supposed to agree. Sheknows how to work in harmony with her family and her neighbors, buther adjectives, verbs and nouns do sometimes tangle. I don't mind. These are small matters to me. I love my own people--admire and honorthem. "

Pearl's cheeks were flaming now. 

"If you care greatly for these things--I know many do--and feel theyare too serious, I want you to do something for me as my physician. You can do it with one word. It will hurt, but not for long. It willheal quickly. I will wash out the place with pride, and put on abandage of the love I bear my own people. It will just be the firstshock--there will be no after effects. Tell me the one word. Was itbecause--my father eats with his knife? Danny buried his face in yourshoulder so he could not see. I will use a pillow--it is--more seemly. All right! Ready! Jerk!"

The pillow was thrown across the room, and Pearl found herself lookinginto his eyes, as he held her close. 

"No, Pearl, " he cried, "it is not that. I love you--more than all theworld. I would marry you--if every relative you ever had had beenhanged on the highest hill. There are no two people I know, to whom Iwould rather be related, than your father and mother. But there is agap between us. I did not tell you the truth that day, because I feltit was more honorable to hide it. But I will tell you everything now. "

When he was done, Pearl's eyes were soft and tender, and her armstightened around him. 

"Is that all?" she said happily. "Is that all?"

"You don't understand, dear, how serious it is, " he said, "I couldn'task you to marry a sick man. "

"But you love me?" she said, "You want me--you have been miserabletrying to give me up. "

"It has been a bitter fight, " he said, "a miserable, lonesome fight. "

Pearl stood up suddenly, and he thought he had never seen her sobeautiful, so queenly or so compelling. He knew he was going to dowhatever she said. The weight of responsibility seemed to be lifted. 

"Come out, " she said quickly, "we are too happy to stay inside. I mustbreathe the sunshine and look up at the sky. My heart is too full fora house. "

They drove to the river bank, a mile away, and sat on a fallen log atthe head of a ravine, which fell sharply to the river below. Throughthe opening in the trees, they would see the slow running Souris, onwhich the sunshine glinted, making its easy way to join its elderbrother, the Assiniboine, on the long, long march to the sea. Acrossthe river plumy willows, pale green and tremulous, grew paler still asa wind passed over them. 

The afternoon sun was sinking in a sea of wine-red mist, throwingstreamers of light into the upper sky, like a giant's fan. 

"I know now, " said Pearl, "why I was led to Purple Springs, and why Ifelt when I met Annie Gray that my life would be knit with hers;"and then as they sat, hand-in-hand, with the glory of the sunsettransfiguring the every-day world, she told him of the wonder valleyof hot springs in the far North, whose streams have magical powers ofhealing. The valley of Purple Springs--away beyond the sunset. 

"We'll go over tomorrow, " said Pearl, "and Annie will tell you allabout it, with its arch of mountains, its tropical flowers, the sizeof the vegetables and grains which grow there, and the delight of theIndians when they find their sick people growing well again. Annie hasbeen longing to go, and I told her yesterday I would go with her, andwe can still get there before the cold weather. "

The doctor made one last effort to hold to his original intention:

"Pearl, I cannot let you bind yourself to me until I am well again. I am holding my own, Dr. Brander says. He thought the election wouldpull me down, but it didn't. My case is a hopeful one. It's too muchlike taking advantage of your romantic way of looking at this. Tomarry a sick man is a serious affair, and I cannot ask a girl likeyou, so full of promise, so splendid in every way, to do it. "

"You won't need to, " she laughed, slipping her arm through his. "It'sall settled--I'll just marry you without being asked. The covenantbetween you and me was made before the foundations of the world. You're my man. I knew you the moment I saw you. So when I say, 'I, Pearl, take you, Horace, ' it's not a new contract--it's just aratification of the old. It's just the way we have of letting theworld know. You see dear, you just can't help it--it's settled. "

"But are you sure, Pearl; you are so young in years; I mean--are yousure you will not be sorry? I love you Pearl--I want you, but I desirestill more to see you get the most out of life. "

"I'm sure, " she said steadily. "If I can't have you, life has fooledme--cheated me--and I do not believe God ever intended that. PeterNeelands said I was in love with life, with romance; that because youwere the nearest hero I had selected you and hung a halo around you, and that maybe I was mistaken. "

"What does he know about it?" asked the doctor sharply. 

"I told him, " said Pearl. "He was the only person I could talk to, andwhen there came not a word from you--and Mrs. Crocks told me you wentquite often to the city to see Miss Keith, I began to wonder if Icould be mistaken--so I tried to forget you. "

"You did!"

"Yes. I worked two weeks on it, when I was in the city. "

"How did you go about it?" he asked, after a pause. 

"Peter said most girls were so romantic and ready to fall in love, they often loved a man who cared nothing for them, but who marriedthem rather than break their hearts, and that's what causes so manyunhappy homes. Of course, it works the other way too, and he saidthe way to tell if it were a real true, undying love, was to try the'expulsive power of a new love. ' That's a fine phrase, isn't it?"

"Well, Peter was willing to be experimented on. He said if he had cometo Millford about the same time you did, I might have selected himinstead of you, and made a hero of him. "

"He has his nerve, " exclaimed the doctor. 

"O, I don't know, " she said. "I mean I didn't know. I was willing tosee. So Peter stuck around all the time, and he drove me everywhere, and always saw me home. I like him--all right--but you see I couldn'tmake my heart beat when he came into the room, and there was norainbow in the sky, or music in the air, when he came to see me, andevery day I got more lonesome for you, until it just seemed as if Icouldn't go on. The three years when I thought you loved me, I savedup a lot of happiness--sort of money in the bank--and I used it everyday and told myself you would tell me everything some day--and itwould all come right. I got that mixed in with my prayers every night. But when you didn't come--and didn't come--my balance in the bank grewless and less--and I got panicky, and afraid I had been mistaken. Sojust to be sure, I did try to like Peter--not because I wanted to, but just to see if it could be done--in the interest of scientificresearch, Peter said it was. "

"But I couldn't get accustomed to having him with me--he tired mesometimes--he talked too much, and I never could let him pay for mylunch, when we had lunch together. I could not let him spend a cent onme--not even the price of a movie. "

"I'm glad you didn't, Pearl, " the doctor said quickly. "You were quiteright about that, but you won't feel that way about me, will you dear?These new women can get to be so independent--they are uncomfortableto live with. "

Pearl rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, like a well-pleasedkitten. 

"No chance!" she said. "I'll let you pay every time--I'll just lovespending your money--I won't ever know it from mine. "

"O won't you?" laughed the doctor. "Well now, I am glad to be warned, and I am glad there are some laws to protect poor simple-minded menlike me. I'll speak to Driggs about it as soon as I go back, and youmay expect to see on the front page of the 'Mercury' something likethis: 'I, Horace Clay, physician of the village of Millford, herebywarn the public I will not be responsible for my wife's debts. '"

At that, they laughed so much that the woodpecker in the tree abovethem stopped drumming, to listen, and when he found out how mattersstood, he turned the whole story into telegraphic code and sent it upand down the valley; and a brown squirrel looked at them througha tangle of cranberry leaves, and when he got the drift oftheir conversation, he raced to the top of the highest tree andchee--chee--chee-d the news to all the other squirrels in the woods;and old silver-spot, the crow, scenting a piece of gossip, camecircling over the trees and made a landing on a stump quite near them, and with his head on one side, listened for a few minutes, and then, with an insufferable smirk, rose cautiously and, circling high overthe trees, made a rapid flight up the river, without uttering a sound. 

The doctor watched him as he disappeared around the bend. "Do you knowwhere he's off to, Pearl?" he said. "He's going to tell Mrs. Crocks. She understands Crow, of course--it's left over from her lastre-incarnation. This will save an announcement!"

All afternoon, a black cloud, thick and thunderous, had huddled overthe hills to the north, but before the sun went down, there cameacross its shoulder, a shining ribbon of rainbow.