thing, and let the girls be mortified, or else I've
got to keep still and marry him over again, and pass for an old fool the
rest of my life. I don't believe I can do it. They've got more time to
live down disgrace than I have. I believe I'll just come out and tell
everything. Ethel!" she called. "Come here, you and Rob; I've got
something to tell you."

The young couple stood with locked arms, looking out over the valley. At
the sound of her voice they clasped each other close in an embrace of
passionate protest against the intrusion of this other soul. Then they
turned toward the sunset, and went slowly and reluctantly into the
house.

Lib

A young woman sat on the veranda of a small redwood cabin, putting her
baby to sleep. The infant displayed that aggressive wide-awakeness which
seems to characterize babies on the verge of somnolence. Now and then it
plunged its dimpled fists into the young mother's bare white breast,
stiffened its tiny form rebelliously, raised its head, and sent gleams
of defiance from beneath its drooping eyelids.

It was late in March, and the ground about the cabin was yellow with
low-growing compositae. The air was honey-sweet and dripping with
bird-song. Inside the house a woman and a girl were talking.

"Oh, he's not worrying," said the latter. "What's he got to worry about?
He lets us do all that. Lib's got the baby and we've got to bear all the
disgrace. I"--

"Myrtie," called a clear voice from the veranda, "shut up! You may say
what you please about me, and you may say what you please about him, but
nobody's going to call this baby a disgrace."

She caught the child up and kissed the back of its neck with passionate
vehemence. The baby struggled in her embrace and gave a little cry of
outraged dignity.

Indoors the girl looked at her mother and bit her lip in astonished
dismay.

"I didn't know she could hear," she whispered.

A tall young woman came up the walk, trailing her tawdry ruffles over
the fragrant alfileria.

"Is Miss Sunderland"--She colored a dull pink and glanced at the baby.

"I'm Lib Sunderland. Won't you come in?" said Lib.

The newcomer sank down on the upper step and leaned against the post of
the veranda.

"No. I don't want to see any one but you. I guess we can talk here."

The baby sat up at the sound of the stranger's voice and stared at her
with round, blinking eyes. She drew off her cotton gloves and whipped
her knee with them in awkwa