she will
worry."

"I want you to go and tell her," said Christopher, "and I've got my
bank-book here; I'm going to write some checks that she can get cashed
when she needs money. I want you to tell her. Myrtle won't make a fuss.
She ain't the kind. Maybe she will be a little lonely, but if she is,
she can go and visit somewhere." Christopher rose. "Can you let me have
a pen and ink?" said he, "and I will write those checks. You can tell
Myrtle how to use them. She won't know how."

Stephen Wheaton, an hour later, sat in his study, the checks in his
hand, striving to rally his courage. Christopher had gone; he had seen
him from his window, laden with parcels, starting upon the ascent of
Silver Mountain. Christopher had made out many checks for small amounts,
and Stephen held the sheaf in his hand, and gradually his courage to
arise and go and tell Christopher's wife gained strength. At last he
went.

Myrtle was looking out of the window, and she came quickly to the door.
She looked at him, her round, pretty face gone pale, her plump hands
twitching at her apron.

"What is it?" said she.

"Nothing to be alarmed about," replied Stephen.

Then the two entered the house. Stephen found his task unexpectedly
easy. Myrtle Dodd was an unusual woman in a usual place.

"It is all right for my husband to do as he pleases," she said with an
odd dignity, as if she were defending him.

"Mr. Dodd is a strange man. He ought to have been educated and led a
different life," Stephen said, lamely, for he reflected that the words
might be hard for the woman to hear, since she seemed obviously quite
fitted to her life, and her life to her.

But Myrtle did not take it hardly, seemingly rather with pride. "Yes,"
said she, "Christopher ought to have gone to college. He had the head
for it. Instead of that he has just stayed round here and dogged round
the farm, and everything has gone wrong lately. He hasn't had any luck
even with that." Then poor Myrtle Dodd said an unexpectedly wise thing.
"But maybe," said Myrtle, "his bad luck may turn out the best thing for
him in the end."

Stephen was silent. Then he began explaining about the checks.

"I sha'n't use any more of his savings than I can help," said Myrtle,
and for the first time her voice quavered. "He must have some clothes
up there," said she. "There ain't bed-coverings, and it is cold nights,
late as it is in the spring. I wonder how I can get the bedclothes and
other thi