hter," she
lied.

She glanced out of window, and the height of the sun seemed suddenly
to startle her. Her more gentle look suddenly vanished and one of
irritability swiftly replaced it.

"Now, won't you let me help you with all these things?" Scipio
coaxed.

But Jessie had seemingly quite forgotten her moment of tenderness.

"No," she said sharply. "You get right out to work." Then after a
pause, with a sudden warming in her tone, "Think of Jamie and Vada.
Think of them, and not of me. Their little lives are just beginning.
They are quite helpless. You must work for them, and work as you've
never done before. They are ours, and we love them. I love them.
Yes"--with a harsh laugh--"better than myself. Don't you think of me,
Zip. Think of them, and work for them. Now be off. I don't want you
here."

Scipio reluctantly enough accepted his dismissal. His wife's sudden
nervousness of manner was not hidden from him. He believed that she
was seriously upset, and it pained and alarmed his gentle heart. But
the cause of her condition did not enter into his calculations. How
should it? The reason of things seemed to be something which his mind
could neither grasp nor even inquire into. She was troubled, and
he--well, it made him unhappy. She said go and work, work for the
children. Ah, yes, her thoughts were for the children, womanly,
unselfish thoughts just such as a good mother should have. So he went,
full of a fresh enthusiasm for his work and for his object.

Meanwhile Jessie went on with her work. And strangely enough her
nervousness increased as the moments went by, and a vague feeling of
apprehension took hold of her. She hurried desperately. To get the
table cleared was her chief concern. How she hated it. The water grew
cold and greasy, and every time she dipped her cloth into it she
shuddered. Again and again her eyes turned upon the window surveying
the bright sunlight outside. The children playing somewhere beyond the
door were ignored. She was even trying to forget them. She heard their
voices, and they set her nerves jangling with each fresh peal of
laughter, or shrill piping cry.

At last the last plate and enameled cup was washed and dried. The
boiler was emptied and hung upon the wall. She swabbed the table
carelessly and left it to dry. Then, with a rush, she vanished into
the inner room.

The moments passed rapidly. There was no sound beyond the merry games
of the twins squatting out in the sun, d