ent, broken, and mixed with
tears that no one but David could have understood their meaning.

"Kind?" he said, patting her shoulder. "No, there's no particular
kindness about this. I've just got Doctor Bourland's prescription
filled, that's all. You know he said I had to find out what the trouble
was and remove it, and that's what I've tried to do."

Sarah's tears flowed afresh at this proof of David's thoughtfulness.
"Oh, David!" she cried remorsefully. "I thought you didn't care for the
things--_our_ things! And it hurt me so!"

"Cheer up, old woman," said David. "Dry your eyes and see if I've got
everything here I ought to have. You'll find some clothes in the bureau
drawers, enough to last for a few days, anyhow. We're goin' to stay here
awhile, till that head of yours quits achin' and your nerves get quieted
down."

But Sarah was in the kitchen now, opening drawers, doors, and boxes like
a true daughter of Pandora. "Sugar--meal--soda--bacon--salt. How on
earth did you manage to think of everything, David?"

"Come out in the garden," urged David. "Pretty outlook, ain't it?" he
said, with a gesture toward the west where green meadows and blue hills
slumbered in the late afternoon sunshine. "See the new stable and the
chicken yard. I'll put up some martin boxes next week, and we'll have
pigeons, too. Here's the asparagus bed, and over against the stable
we'll have a little hotbed and raise early lettuce. It's too late to do
much now, but I've got the walks laid off, and this time next year we'll
be sittin' under our own 'vine and fig-tree.'"

Hand in hand, like two children, they wandered over their acre of
ground, planning for the flower garden, the vegetable garden, and the
tiny orchard and the grape arbor that were to be, till the level rays of
the sun warned them of approaching evening. David took out his watch.

"Pretty near supper time," he said. "The fire's laid in the kitchen
stove. I wonder if you've forgotten how to cook a meal, Mrs. Maynor?"

Sarah answered with a laugh; and as she walked to the house and entered
her kitchen, she looked as Eve might have looked, if, with her womanly
tears and sighs, she had bribed the Angel of the Flaming Sword to let
her pass through the gate and stroll for an hour along the paths of her
lost Eden. But Sarah's Paradise Regained was the paradise of the worker.
She rolled up her sleeves, tied a gingham apron around her waist, and
set about getting supper with the zea