ool young face, on his
black hair and on his long, strong, surgeon's fingers. It flickered too
on his mother's sweet lips, on her tired brown eyes and iron-gray hair.
It put high-lights on the cameo at her throat and made a grotesque
shadow of her hoop-skirts on the stable wall.

Finally Jason straightened himself with a sigh and wiped his hands on a
towel.

"That's a good job," he said. "Must be some bad spikes here or in the
pasture fence to have given him that rip. I'll hunt them up
tomorrow.--Get over there!"

This last to Pilgrim, who suddenly had put his head on Jason's shoulder
with a soft nuzzling of his nose against the young doctor's cheek and a
little whinny that was almost human.

"Why, Jason, he's thanking you!" cried his mother. "He'll never forget
what you've done for him tonight."

Jason gave the horse a careless slap and started out the stable door.

"You'll be having it that he speaks Greek next," he said.

"You don't know him," replied Jason's mother. "This is the first time
you ever saw him, remember. These last three years of your father's life
he's been like one of the family." She followed Jason into the cottage.
"Often and often before your poor father died he said he'd never have
been able to keep on with the circuit-riding and the preaching if he'd
had to depend on any other horse than Pilgrim. That horse just knew
father was forgetful. He wouldn't budge if father forgot the
saddle-bags. When Pilgrim balked, father always knew he'd forgotten
something and he'd go back for it. I'll have supper on by the time
you've washed up, Jason."

The little stove that was set in the fireplace roared lustily. The
kettle was singing. The old yellow cat slept cozily in the wooden rocker
on the patch-work cushion. All the furniture, so simple and worn, was as
familiar to Jason as the back of his hand.

Jason washed at the bench in the corner, then sat down while his mother
put the supper before him--fried mush, fried salt pork, tea and apple
sauce.

"Well," said Jason soberly, "what are we going to do now, mother?
Father's gone and--"

His mother's trembling lips warned him to stop.

"It doesn't seem possible," she said, "that it's only a week since we
laid him away."

Jason interrupted gently. "I know, mother; but you and I have got to go
on living!"

"It's you I'm worrying about," said his mother.

"I've been wondering if you hadn't better come back to Baltimore with
me," mused Jason. "I