a word, she
stepped lightly across the room and reaching through the iron bars
closed a rude shutter to screen the glare of the morning sun from his
eyes, then gently adjusted a pillow beneath his head and fed him a cup
of hot broth, he accepted it all like a wild, sick animal which in its
helplessness has lost all animosity to man.

During the day she tended him unobtrusively, but with infinite
kindness, and next morning she found him better, but still willing to
accept her care. He even watched her with a far-away interest as one
would something unknown and yet strangely pleasing. By the third
morning she talked to him a bit as she smoothed his pillow, and smiled
as he ate her toast with relish.

At last he said with an effort, "Whar's Steve?"

"He is here," she said gladly, "just waiting outside the door for you
to ask for him. He has been there every day," she added softly.

Then she stepped to the door and motioned for Steve. The boy came in,
still dressed in mountain fashion, for no amount of persuasion could
induce him to again put on the better clothes. This evidently met the
father's approval, for a look of bitter expectancy which had come into
his face faded at once as he saw the old trousers and bare feet.

"Set down," he commanded feebly, but not unkindly, though he had
nothing more to say.

The two stayed with him through the day, and gradually Grace, with
consummate tact, made conversation which included the three, though
Langly took little part. Then she read a stirring story which
compelled his attention and interest even though he had never heard
anything read aloud before. It was the first time in the mountaineer's
long life that he had ever been unable to rise from his bed and go his
way and the helplessness had softened his spirit like the touch of a
fairy's wand. As he listened to the sweet, cultured voice of the woman
while she read and saw Steve with quickened intelligence following
every word, he realized for the first time that the world held strange
things in which he had no part, but for which his boy was ready.

At last Miss Grace turned to Steve and said in the most natural
manner, "My throat is getting tired; won't you read a little for us?"

The boy looked at his father in quick alarm, but the gaunt face
betrayed nothing, and the reading went on in Steve's boyish voice.

Several days passed during which Miss Grace and Steve had been
constantly with the prisoner, then his injured