on the roughly-panelled wooden wall, hung a picture of some beautiful home in England, in the west country I should say a house with mullioned windows, and terraces sloping to a river, and woods rising behind it. I knew without being told that this was Dick's home. It looked like him, and the things on the table came from that house. I wondered if Walter would ever run down those terraces, or play in those woods where his father had played Probably never.

I moved to the window, a long narrow window set horizontally in the wall, instead of upright, and looking out of it westward I saw a wonderful sight a long range of the Rockies, snowy and majestical, so strong they seemed like the rampart of the world, for they stretched the whole way across the west, and behind them the sky flamed red and glorious, but all in flakes of colour, like some vast mystical rose. Tired as I was, I stood still at the window and gazed, for the beauty rested me, and the rosecolour was changing into violet.

"Oh, Bill, what what does it matter! Lots of people have thought me cruel, and it doesn't annoy me in the least."

"Do you really not mind?" "No! Yes! I mean, I am hard-hearted, and they don't know the difference. But I do like to be of use."

"I mean, do you not care one bit what I think of you, Joey?" "Oh dear, yes! Of course I do."

"Then I'm going to tell you before I go. You are . . ."

And this is the last word I can recollect hearing. My eyes closed, and my ears along with them, I suppose, and I fell asleep. Fancy it! right in the middle of our intelligent conversation. So unfortunate!

I

Bill didn't forgive this, as

knew by his distant politeness next day. I am sure he thought I did it on purpose, to mark my indifference to his sentiments. I was so tired, but of course he forgot that. Really, if you consider it, this would be rather an effective stroke in a genuine flirtation. But I never thought of playing

in that amusement. Bill, I know, is one of those men who find it hard to believe that every woman is not a flirt, deep down in her inside.

He

had so many obsolete notions, though he was quite young, and he held them all with a deadly certainty. I could never have made a pal of him as I did of Tom Milbanke. had no sister, I am sure. At any rate, he had not the faintest understanding of women. Per

Bill

haps no man has. Perhaps we are quite deceived when we think we understand them. Perhaps this was all laid down in the general scheme of things. Perhaps I had better stop moralising. But I know I could never be so dull of understanding as Bill Gresham.

CHAPTER XII.

The next thing was the period of convalescence, and it tried us all pretty severely.

Not that the children were specially fractious, for they weren't, and I could generally control them. But the grownup people were simply idiotic. They would encourage the boys to do all kinds of things long before they were fit, and as diphtheria leaves the heart very weak for quite a long period, this kept me in a fume of anxiety, and my temper became short and snappy. I wasn't cut out after an angelic pattern, which I'm sure every one-stupid or not-must have realised very clearly at this juncture.

Hilda, who had some grains of sense, went off to Calgary on the first day after we were all disinfected, and returned, very weary and worn, with a load of toys and games, for which I blessed her fervently. They helped to pass many a weary hour.

In the Red House we had never been able to make Patsy play games; she looked on them all with solemn aversion.

But her brothers were delighted with them, and played like any other English boys. They were all four of the fair type, rather slight, but well-knit and decidedly graceful in their movements. I could not discern in any of them the least likeness to poor Patsy, except in one point, and that was a peculiar, light, almost stealthy way of lifting the foot from the ground. They all had this, and were all very long-sighted and sharp of hearing. Dickon and Hugh, the twins, were inseparable, and as twins often do, spent most of their time in quarrelling, but allowed no one to come between them.

Fred, the three-year-old, was a peaceable creature. His illness had made his young legs rather weak, so he adapted himself to circumstances by leading a contemplative life, chiefly in a sitting position, like some Oriental sage. He sat wherever he found something interesting to contemplate, and Walter never forgot to look after him. He was really slightly bored by this immature babbling brother, but

66

They'd be quite happy if they came together, wouldn't they?" Dickon and Hugh, who had stolen up to us quietly with a handful of crocuses for Fred, on hearing this dire suggestion cast their flowers into his lap and fled, swiftly, silently, and far. They were the shyest of shy children.

Evaleen D'Arcy flung herself back against a willow-trunk, and laughed merrily.

"Never mind! Wait till I tell them of the ponies I have for them to ride, the little scamps!"

Hilda got up, and went in anxious search of the twins. Quite uselessly, as they had simply melted into the landscape. It was an accomplishment they possessed. I think only a bloodhound could have found them, when they once chose to hide.

"Yes, I envy you very much," said the dark-eyed woman, suddenly grave. "You saved the lives of those children, and the man's life too, most likely."

"Bill Gresham did most," I said, "and much the hardest part."

"Ah, but he never would have gone to the house at all but for you two."

Which was true. And at that moment it occurred to me that the whole chain of events started from Hilda's resolve "to justify herself," which we had all deplored. Hilda never opened her lips on the subject since we arrived at the stricken house that

morning. But she had justified herself. It was curious, and I began thinking of David.

Evaleen D'Arcy spoke, rather like some one pondering to herself. "It's a strange country. We all say it's a hard country, specially for women. As far as physical conditions go, that is true. But whatever we may suffer here, we have one tremendous compensation. We are valued, we are needed. I think myself that no country in the world at present can be so hard for women as England, where they are continually and inevitably slighted for their mere numbers-a drug on the market, you see. So horrid for the young ones. But here the values are redressed. I came out when I was nineteen, and you might have called the country rather tough then. Yes, it was, specially for a delicate girl, and I was delicate. I'm strong now. I've had a splendid life, very close to reality. One lives here with the primitive things, hunger and cold, hatred and love. One lives close to God, in fact." "What do you call God?" I asked her.

"The divinity that shapes our ends. You'll find Him here, if you never found Him before," she averred quite calmly. "The mountains and the stars by night will show Him to you. Rustling winds in the prairie grass can whisper the things that never are said. Comedy and tragedy are played here every day. You have noticed some already, haven't you?"