eplied:

"That's the reason I waited till he was dead."

"If he hadn't been hurt so sudden he wouldn't have left me _here."_

"But he _was_ hurt sudden, and he _did_ leave ye here."

She made as if to answer, but did not. Both men were looking at her now.
The snow was white on her hair. Her tears had so long been dry that the
swollen look was passing from her face. It had been until now at best a
heavy face, but feeling that is strong enough works like a master's
swift chisel to make the features the vehicle of the soul. Both men were
relieved when she suddenly took her eyes from them and her shadow from
their work and went away.

Saul stretched his head and looked after her. There was no pity in his
little apple face and beady eyes, only a sort of cunning curiosity, and
the rest was dulness and weakness.

Bates did not look after her. He shut his knife and fell to joining the
coffin.

CHAPTER IV.

The girl lifted the latch of the house-door, and went in. She was in the
living-room. The old woman sat in a chair that was built of wood against
the log wall. She was looking discontentedly before her at an iron
stove, which had grown nearly cold for lack of attention. Some chairs, a
table, a bed, and a ladder which led to the room above, made the chief
part of the furniture. A large mongrel dog, which looked as if he had
some blood of the grey southern sheep dog in him rose from before the
stove and greeted the in-comer silently.

The dog had blue eyes, and he held up his face wistfully, as if he knew
something was the matter. The old woman complained of cold. It was plain
that she did not remember anything concerning death or tears.

There was one other door in the side of the room which led to the only
inner chamber. The girl went into this chamber, and the heed she gave to
the dog's sympathy was to hold the door and let him follow her. Then she
bolted it. There were two narrow beds built against the wall; in one of
these the corpse of a grey-haired man was lying. The dog had seen death
before, and he evidently understood what it was. He did not move quickly
or sniff about; he laid his head on the edge of the winding-sheet and
moaned a little.

The girl did not moan. She knelt down some way from the bed, with a
desire to pray. She did not pray; she whispered her anger, her
unhappiness, her desires, to the air of the cold, still room, repeating
the same phrases again and again with clenched hands and t