old she must be in the wintry
air with nothing about her shoulders and the breeze strong enough to
stir those rings of hair about her forehead. But she must suffer it
while he raked Tenney by the only language Tenney knew.

"But here be you," cried Tenney, as if his mind, unsatisfied, went back
to one flaw after another in Raven's argument. "You see me go by to my
work, an' you come up here to talk over my folks behind my back an' tole
'em off to run away with you."

"I have explained all that once," said Raven. "You'll have to take it or
leave it."

At that instant Tira stepped forward. She gave a little cry.

"You've hurt your foot!"

Raven's glance followed hers to the ground and he saw a red stain
creeping from Tenney's boot into the snow. Tenney also glanced at it
indifferently. It was true that, although the cold was growing anguish
to a numbing wound, he was hardly aware of it as a pain that could be
remedied. This was only one misery the more.

"Course I've hurt my foot," he said savagely. "What d'ye s'pose I come
home for, this time o' day?"

"Why," said Tira, in an innocent good faith, "I s'posed you come back to
spy on me."

That did take hold of him. He looked at her in an almost childish
reproach. Now he put the foot to the ground--he had been, though
unconsciously, easing it--but at the first step winced and his face
whitened.

"God A'mighty!" Raven heard him mutter, and was glad. He seemed more of
a man invoking God in his pain than in waving deity like a portent
before unbelievers.

Tira had gone to him.

"You put your hand on my shoulder," she said, something so sweetly
thrilling in her voice that Raven wondered how Tenney could hear it and
not feel his heart dissolve into water. For himself, he was relieved at
the warming tone, but it mysteriously hurt him, it seemed so horrible
that all the tenderness of which it was witness had to be dammed in her
with no outlet save over the child who was "not right." Tenney paid no
attention to her, and Raven took him by the arm. The snow was reddening
thinly and Raven could see the cut in the boot.

"Open the door," he said to Tira. "I'll help him in."

Curiously, though Tenney had forgotten the hurt except as a part of his
mental pain, now that his mind was directed toward it he winced, and
made much of getting to the door. Yet it seemed to be in no sense to
challenge sympathy. He was simply sorry for himself, bewildered at his
misfortune, and s