of his life that drove her
frantic now. It was the horror of such an end to her wretched
marriage. The wife of a cattle-thief! The widow of a man lynched by
his fellow citizens! She buried her face in her hands, and hard, dry
sobs racked her body.

For a moment she stood thus. Then she suddenly lifted her head, her
eyes staring, her whole attitude alert, intent. There was a sound
outside. She heard the clank of the latch. And now an awkward
shuffling gait just outside her door. She moved toward the parlor and
stood listening in the doorway.

Suddenly a light broke in upon her. That awkward footstep! She knew
it! Her relief was heartbreaking. It was Elia. With a rush she was at
the door, and the next moment she dragged the boy in, and was crooning
over him like some mother over a long-lost child.

But the boy pushed her away roughly. His calm face and gentle eyes now
shone with excitement, one of those excitements she so dreaded in
him.

"Quit, sis," he cried sharply. "I ain't no use fer sech slobberin'. I
ain't a kid. Say----"

He broke off, eyeing her with his head bent sideways in the
extraordinary attitude which a cruel nature had inflicted upon him.

"Yes."

Eve's eyes were full of a yearning tenderness. His rebuff meant
nothing to her devotion. She believed it to be only his way. Part of
the cruel disease for which he must be pitied and not blamed.

But his broken sentence remained uncompleted. His eyes were fixed upon
her face bland yet sparkling with the thought behind them.

"Peter sent word to me to-day that you--you were lost," Eve said.

The boy laughed without relaxing a muscle.

"Did he? He's a fule someways."

He passed into the kitchen and took Eve's rocking-chair. She followed
him, and stood leaning against the table.

"Then you--you didn't get lost?"

"Say, you folks make me sick. Why 'ud I get lost more'n other fellers?
You guess I'm a kid--but I ain't. Lost! Gee! Say, sis, Peter orter
know'd wher' I was. I told him I was goin'. An' I went. Sure I went."
He rubbed his delicate hands together in his glee. His eyes sparkled
again with rising excitement. But Eve forgot her fears for him now;
she was interested. She was lifted out of her own despair by his
evident joy, and waited for him to tell his story.

But Elia had his own way of doing things, and that way was rarely a
pleasant one. Nor was it now, as Eve was quickly to learn.

"Yes, sure, Peter's a fule, someways--but I like him.