ittle inflection of
voice, that held a world of friendliness and compassion.

"I am afraid you will think I am in a perpetually disgruntled state," I
told her. "Nothing of the kind! I eat the squarest kind of square meals
every day and really enjoy the work here. If it were not a bit trying,
from time to time, it wouldn't be worth a man's while to tackle it."

"That is the way to talk," approved Mrs. Barnett.

So we shook hands again and I left her, thinking what a splendid thing it
must be for a fellow to have such a tower of gentle strength to lean
upon.

I went over to the Jelliffes' and cut down the plaster dressing. The
broken leg is doing very well, as was to be expected, and I was much
pleased.

"That's doing splendidly," I told him. "A little more patience for a
couple of weeks and we'll have you walking up and down the village, a
living advertisement of my accomplishments."

"A couple of weeks!" exclaimed Mr. Jelliffe. "That sounds like three or
four. I know you fellows. No one ever managed to get anything definite
out of a doctor, with the possible exception of his bill."

I laughed, but refused to commit myself by making any hard and fast
promises, and Miss Jelliffe came in.

"Daddy enjoyed himself ever so much last evening," she said. "He likes
Mr. Barnett and grows enthusiastic when he speaks of Mrs. Barnett. I must
say that I share his views."

"They are made of the salt of the earth," I asserted.

"Yes, there can be no doubt of that," she said. "But doesn't it seem
dreadful that a gently nurtured woman should be placed in such
surroundings, with no means of obtaining anything but the barest needs of
existence? She has to stand all the worries of her own household and, in
addition, is compelled to listen to the woes of all the others."

"And any help that she can extend to them," I added, "saving that of
sympathy and kind words, is always at the cost of depriving herself and
her little ones. And yet she is doing it unceasingly, and goes about in
shocking clothes and with a smile on her face, cheerfully, as if her path
in life lay over a bed of roses."

"That's what I call a fine woman, and a good one," said Mr. Jelliffe,
"but I'm sure it is her devotion to that little man that has brought out
all her fine points. His people are her people and she has adopted his
ideals."

The front door was widely opened on this pleasant day, and, as I was
finishing the dressing, Miss Jelliffe was dreamily