roubles were overwhelmed. She was rendered
unmindful that Ann had softly called her name; nor did she realize that
Shellington had spoken quietly to her.

She flung out her hands in eloquent appeal.

"Oh, I thank ye for covering my brother up so warm! He didn't need no
sheets nor piller-slips; but his bones did need the blankets--sure. I
say as how he'd thank ye, too, if he weren't offen his head."

Horace gently took the girl's hands in his, and Flea lowered her
sun-browned face.

"I know he would, child," he said in moved tones. "He's more than
welcome to all we can do--and you are to stay here, too, little girl."

Horace had done what Ann had been unable to do. The words had soothed
the squatter girl, and the savage young heart was softened. The long,
dreary country marches were over; the cold nights and bare fields were
things of the past. For Flukey, there were tender hands that would ease
his pain; for her, a home unmenaced by Lem. She had looked her last upon
horrors that had bound her to a life she hated.

Shellington spoke to her.

"Look at me, child!" said he. "I want to tell you what the doctor said."

She lifted an anxious gaze filled with the emotion of a woman's soul. It
was her dawning womanhood that Horace saw, and toward it his manhood was
unconsciously drawn.

Ann spoke quietly:

"The doctor says that your brother will be ill many weeks, and we have
decided to keep him here with us, if you consent to our arrangements."

"Ye mean," gasped Flea, snatching her hands from Horace, "ye mean that
Flukey can lay in that there bed till he gets all well and all the
misery has gone out of his bones?"

Ann's answer meant much to Flea. The girl had realized the import of the
speech; but, that she might better understand the words, she had sent
them questioningly back in her vernacular for further confirmation.

"If you are willing to stay with us," Horace was saying, "and will help
us take care of him--"

He could not have offered anything else that would so have touched her.
How she had longed to do something for Flukey those last hours in the
graveyard! But Flea wanted no mistake. Did the gentleman understand how
terribly poor they were?

"We ain't got no money, and we only own Squeaky and Snatchet."

Shellington smiled at the interruption.

"You will still own your dog and pig, child, if you ever wish to go
away. My sister and I are anxious to have your brother grow strong and
well. He has r