knew the habits of the people; a neighbour's aid was
sought freely and with confidence; doors were open at all times to need
or social intercourse.

To her intent listening the accents of a low and guarded tone came in
reply to her challenge; the voice was Joseph Smith's.

Susannah looked with anguish toward her child's cradle. Had some army of
mad persecutors invested Kirtland? Nothing less than fierce persecution
could be thus heralded.

For years Susannah had known Smith as a near neighbour, and the stuff of
which the man was at this time made is indicated by the fact that
instinctively she opened the window with noiseless haste.

Smith climbed in. "Has Halsey returned?"

The fire gave the only light in the room. Smith did not shut the window,
but remained sitting on the sill. A bake-house at the back hid the place
from neighbouring eyes.

"It's all up with our bank," said Smith.

"I feared so," said Susannah.

"The apostates took such a lot of money out of it. No bank anywhere in
this region could have stood it. You have always been down on our
management of the bank, Mrs. Halsey, but if it was not good, why then
have so many of the Gentiles put in their money, and why have they taken
our notes all over the State?"

"You never had the capital you advertised."

"We have land that stands for it."

"It is not worth half what you value it at."

Then Susannah became sorry for her sharp recrimination. Punishment had
befallen; it was a time for mutual help, not for reproach. She saw that
although Smith kept himself calm he was greatly stirred.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

Smith's huge frame was poised awkwardly on the window sill. He moved
restlessly and touched one thing and another with nervous hands. Then he
said with a short laugh, "The size of it is, I'm running away, Mrs.
Halsey. Ye may think I feel pretty mean, but ye'll do me the justice
just to think how it is. If they'd shoot me in fair fight, I'd go and,
if it were the Lord's will, be shot to-morrow, and be thankful too; but
ye know the sort of vengeance they'll take. I have been beaten time and
again before now, and covered with pitch, and I've been knocked down and
kicked and ducked in ponds a good many times, as ye know, and I ain't
ashamed to say that I'm afraid of that sort of thing and afraid of the
results on Emmar and the children. If the Lord clearly told that 'twas
his will to stay and stand it, why then I'd have no choice, but I