ize what I
was being let into--if I had I might have shied. We're practically lost
in the place. Except when some of the people come down from camp, we're
alone. My mother helps out some, but she's up at the ranch a good deal."
She opened the library door, and led the way before an easel, on which
stood a huge canvas. "Here's the picture Mr. Congdon is paintin' of the
Captain. I wanted him taken with his hat on, but Mr. Congdon said no,
and his word went. I don't know whether I like this or not. It's got me
twisted."

Congdon had been after psychology rather than costume, that was evident
at a glance, for the clothing counted for little in the portrait. Out of
the shadow the face peered sadly, yet with a kind of ferocity, too--a
look which made Alice Heath recoil from the man. In a certain way the
artist had taken advantage of Mart's helplessness and loneliness. He had
caught the sadness, sullenness, and remorselessness of his sitter rather
than his gay, good-tempered smile. The face of this man was concerned
with the past, not with the future; and yet on its surface it was a good
likeness, as Ben said, and had both power and distinction. "I think it a
cracker-jack piece of work," he ended.

Bertha replied: "I suppose it is, and yet I can't see it. I'd rather it
looked the way the Captain used to when he came down to the Junction.
I'm sorry to have his sickness painted in that way."

"That can't be helped. These artists are queer cattle; you can't drive
'em," Ben remarked.

Bertha smiled. "He wants to paint me now. 'Not on your life' says I.
'You'd be doing double stunts with my freckles, and I won't stand for
it.'" She laughed. "No sir-ree, I don't let any artist tip my freckles
edgewise just to see how flip he is at it. I like Mr. Congdon, but I
don't trust him--he's too much of a joker."

Thereupon she led the way to the second floor, and showed them the
furniture, which was mostly very costly and very bad, and at last said:
"The third story is pretty empty yet. I don't know just what I'm going
to do with it." She was looking at Alice. "I wish you'd come over and
help me decide some day."

"What fun!" cried Alice, speaking on the impulse. "I'd like to very
much."

"You see," Bertha went on, "my folks have always been purty poor, and
I've lived in jay towns all my life; and when I came here I didn't know
any more about life in a city than a duck does of mining. I had it all
to learn, and they's a whole lot ye