ners
of those dark eyes and tender inquiries as to the health of his
children.

"Is they--is they some particular reason that you cain't go this
morning?" the widower inquired cautiously.

There was, and that particular reason lay as far afield as the Edge and
Nancy Card's place, but Judith Barrier did not see fit to name it to this
one of her suitors, who had brought her perhaps more glory than any
other. She was impatient to be rid of him. Like her mother Earth, having
occupied her time for lo! these several years in the building of an ideal
from such unpromising materials as were then at hand, she was ready to
sweep those tentative makings--confessed failures now that she found the
type she really wanted--swiftly, ruthlessly to the limbo of oblivion.

Elihu Drane stood high among his neighbours; he was a man of some
education as well as comfortable means. His attention had been worth
retaining once; now she smiled at him with a vague, impersonal sweetness,
and repeated her statement that she couldn't go to church.

"I've got too much to do," she qualified finally. "Looks like the work in
this house never is finished. And there's chicken and dumplin's to cook
for dinner."

The Elder's pale blue eyes brightened. "Walk down to the gate with me,
won't you?" he said hopefully, "I've got somethin' to talk to you
about."

When they were out of earshot of the house, he began eagerly, "Sister
Barrier you're workin' yourse'f to death here, in the sweet days of your
youth. I did promise the last time that I never would beg you again to
wed me, but looks like I can't stand by and hold my peace. If you was to
trust yourse'f to me things would be different. I never did hold with a
woman killin' herse'f with hard work. My first and second had everything
that they could wish for, and I was good and ready to do more any time
they named what it was. I've got a crank churn. None of these old
back-breaking, up-and-down dashers for me. I hired a woman whenever my
wife said the word. I don't think either of mine ever killed a chicken or
cut a stick of firewood from the time they walked in the front door as a
bride till they was carried out of it in their coffins."

He stared eagerly into the downcast face beside him, but somewhere Judith
found strength to resist even these dazzling propositions.

"I ain't studyin' about gittin' wedded," she told him most untruthfully.
"Looks like I'm a mighty cold-hearted somebody, Elder Drane. I