uh how."

"And father away off in Klondyke," she said irrelevantly, passing over
his generous offer, "and--and dead, for all we know! And she doesn't
care--at _all!_ She--"

Sympathy is good, but it has a disagreeable way of bringing all one's
troubles to the front rather overwhelmingly. Flora suddenly dropped a
plate back into the pan, leaned her face against the wall by the sink
and began to cry in a tempestuous manner rather frightened Charming
Billy Boyle, who had never before seen a grown woman cry real tears
and sob like that.

He did what he could. He put his arms around her and held her close,
and patted her hair and called her girlie, and laid his brown cheek
against her wet one and told her to never mind and that it would be
all right anyway, and that her father was probably picking away in his
mine right then and wishing she was there to fry his bacon for him.

"I wish I was, too," she murmured, weaned from her weeping and talking
into his coat. "If I'd known how--_she_--really was, I wouldn't ever
have stayed. I'd have gone with father."

"And where would _I_ come in?" he demanded selfishly, and so turned
the conversation still farther from her trouble.

The water went stone cold in the dishpan and the fire died in the
stove so that the frost spread a film over the thawed centre of the
window panes. There is no telling when the dishes would have been
washed that day if Mama Joy had not begun to pound energetically upon
the floor--with the heel of a shoe, judging from the sound. Even that
might not have proved a serious interruption; but Dill put his head
in from the dining room and got as far as "That gray horse, William--"
before he caught the significance of Flora perched on the knee of
"William" and retreated hastily.

So Flora went to see what Mama Joy wanted, and Billy hurried somewhat
guiltily out to find what was the matter with the gray horse, and
practical affairs once more took control.

After that, Billy considered himself an engaged young man. He went
back to his ditty and inquired frequently:

"Can she make a punkin pie, Billy boy, Billy Boy?"

and was very nearly the old, care-free Charming Billy of the
line-camp. It is true that Mama Joy recovered disconcertingly that
afternoon, and became once more ubiquitous, but Billy felt that
nothing could cheat him of his joy, and remained cheerful under
difficulties. He could exchange glances of much secret understanding
with Flora, an