quiet and
shining. He hesitated, then stepped out, and came over.

"Have you got it?" he asked, quietly. "It's noon now."

"May God help me to redeem my past," answered the other, in a new voice.

"You've got it--sure?" Tim's voice was meditative.

"God has spoken to me," was the simple answer.

"I've got a friend'll be glad to hear that," he said; and once more, in
imagination, he saw Laura Sloly standing at the door of her home, with a
light in her eyes he had never seen before.

"You'll want some money for your journey?" Tim asked.

"I want nothing but to go away--far away," was the low reply.

"Well, you've lived in the desert--I guess you can live in the
grass-country," came the dry response, "Good-bye--and good-luck,
Scranton."

Tim turned to go, moved on a few steps, then looked back.

"Don't be afraid--they'll not follow," he said. "I'll fix it for you all
right."

But the man appeared not to hear; he was still on his knees.

Tim faced the woods once more.

He was about to mount his horse when he heard a step behind him. He turned
sharply--and faced Laura.

"I couldn't rest. I came out this morning. I've seen everything," she
said.

"You didn't trust me," he said, heavily.

"I never did anything else," she answered.

He gazed half-fearfully into her eyes. "Well?" he asked. "I've done my
best, as I said I would."

"Tim," she said, and slipped a hand in his, "would you mind the
religion--if you had me?"

THE LITTLE WIDOW OF JANSEN

Her advent to Jansen was propitious. Smallpox in its most virulent form
had broken out in the French-Canadian portion of the town, and, coming
with some professional nurses from the East, herself an amateur, to attend
the sufferers, she worked with such skill and devotion that the official
thanks of the Corporation were offered her, together with a tiny gold
watch, the gift of grateful citizens. But she still remained on at Jansen,
saying always, however, that she was "going East in the spring."

Five years had passed, and still she had not gone East, but remained
perched in the rooms she had first taken, over the Imperial Bank, while
the town grew up swiftly round her. And even when the young bank manager
married, and wished to take over the rooms, she sent him to the
right-about from his own premises in her gay, masterful way. The young
manager behaved well in the circumstances, because he had asked her to
marry him, and she had dismissed him with a