again utter
that hateful word "monkey" to her. But he added with real sincerity,
"I'm so sorry I'll do anything in the world to prove it, that you ask
me to do. I will, upon honor."

Elsa couldn't hold malice against anybody and in her heart had already
forgiven him his hurt of her, with her habitual thought: "He didn't
mean it." So she smiled again and accepted his statement as truth.

"Well I don't know as I shall ever want you to do anything to 'prove
it', but if I do I'll tell you. Sure."

Little did Gerald dream how rash a promise he had made. The cabin in
the fields was the one in which he had lain so helpless. As he
recognized it he exclaimed:

"Good! I'll try that childish 'charm' every time!
'My--mother--told--me--right'. That's home to this little shaver and
I'm mighty glad we're there."

But it seemed a very different home from that which had sheltered him
so well. The children were grouped about the door, only Wesley and
Saint Anne daring to enter the room where poor Lucetta lay prone on
the floor, looking so white and motionless that, for a moment, the
newcomers believed that she was dead.

Saint Anne lifted a quivering face toward them but could not speak,
Wesley hid his face in his arm and blubbered audibly.

Then did all the little woman in Elsa's nature respond to this sudden
need.

"Lay Saint Augustine on that bench, where somebody must have slept.
Help me to lift the lady to the bed. Don't cry, little girl. She'll
soon be all right. It's just a faint, I'm sure. I've fainted myself,
often and often. I guess she's overdone. Isn't there a man here?"

"No, ma'am. Papa he comed home an' Mamma she tol' him how Sa--Saint
Augustine had run away and he frew down his gun an' all them games,
an'--an'--just hollered out loud! 'Oh! my God'! an' run off, too.
Mamma was gone all night, lookin' after little brother an' when she
heard papa say that she fell right down there and she don't speak when
we call her. Where'd you find him, our little brother? Was he down in
Tony's Eddy?"

Well, Gerald felt in that state when "anybody could knock him down
with a feather." He was obeying Elsa implicitly, already "proving" he
had meant his promise. He felt such an access of manly strength that
it was almost unaided he lifted Lucetta and laid her on the bed. In
reality, she was already regaining consciousness, and slightly aided
him herself. Then he ran to the spring and brought the "cold
water--coldest you can fin