"

The captain gasped.

"Why--why, Serena," he faltered. "What are you talkin' about? DON'T talk
so! Move to Scarford! Give up Trumet and--"

"Trumet! Don't mention Trumet to me. Daniel Dott, you'll never get me
back to Trumet again--to live there, I mean--never, never, NEVER!"

CHAPTER V

Captain Dan said--Well, it does not matter much what he said. He said
a great deal, of course, during that evening and the next morning, and
would have kept on saying it all the way to Trumet if his wife had not
declined to listen.

"It is no use, Daniel," she declared calmly but firmly. "I have thought
it all out and I KNOW it is the right thing for us to do. You will think
so, too, one of these days."

"Durned if I will! I tell you, Serena--"

"Hush! you're telling everybody in the car, and THAT isn't necessary,
at any rate. Now we won't argue any more until we get home. Then you
can say your say; but"--with discouraging candor--"it won't change my
decision a single mite. My mind is made up. A higher power than you or
me has settled everything for us. We are going to Scarford to live, and
we will go just as soon as we can get ready."

And go they did. The captain fought a stubborn battle, surprisingly
stubborn and protracted for him, but he surrendered at last. Serena
drove him from one line of entrenchments after the other, and, at
length, when she had him in the last ditch, where, argument and
expostulation unavailing, he could only say, "No! no, I won't, I tell
you!" over and over again, she used her most effective weapon, tears,
and brought him to terms.

"You don't care," she sobbed. "You don't care for me at all. All you
care about is just yourself. You're willing to stay here in this awful
place, you're willing to plod along just as you always have; and it
doesn't make any difference about my wishes or my hopes, or anything. If
you were like most husbands you'd be proud and glad to see me getting
on in the world; you'd be glad to give me the chance to be somebody;
you'd--"

"There! there! Serena, don't talk so. I'd do anything in this world to
please you."

"Hush! hush! I should think you'd be ashamed to say such things. I
should think you'd be AFRAID to say them, afraid something would happen
to you--you'd be struck down or something. Oh, well! I must be resigned,
I suppose. I must give in, just as I always do. I must be satisfied to
be miserable and--and--Oh, what shall I do? What SHALL I do?"

Sobs