o me the stuff might be more fillin' than nourishin'."

Ruth smiled faintly. Then she shook her head.

"Oh, Jed," she said, "you're as transparent as a windowpane. Thank
you, though. If anything could cheer me up and help me to forget I
think you could."

Jed looked repentant. "I'd no business to tell you all that
rigamarole," he said. "I'm sorry. I'm always doin' the wrong
thing, seems so. But," he added, earnestly, "I don't want you to
worry too much about your brother--er--Ruth. It's goin' to come
out all right, I know it. God won't let it come out any other
way."

She had never heard him speak in just that way before and she
looked at him in surprise.

"And yet God permits many things that seem entirely wrong to us
humans," she said.

"I know. Things like the Kaiser, for instance. Well, never mind;
this one's goin' to come out all right. I feel it in my bones.
And," with a return of his whimsical drawl, "I may be short on
brains, but a blind man could see they never skimped me when they
passed out the bones."

She looked at him a moment. Then, suddenly leaning forward, she
put her hand upon his big red one as it lay upon the bench.

"Jed," she said, earnestly, "what should I do without you? You are
my one present help in time of trouble. I wonder if you know what
you have come to mean to me."

It was an impulsive speech, made from the heart, and without
thought of phrasing or that any meaning other than that intended
could be read into it. A moment later, and without waiting for an
answer, she hurried from the shop.

"I must go," she said. "I shall think over your advice, Jed, and I
will let you know what I decide to do. Thank you ever and ever so
much."

Jed scarcely heard her. After she had gone, he sat perfectly still
by the bench for a long period, gazing absently at the bare wall of
the shop and thinking strange thoughts. After a time he rose and,
walking into the little sitting-room, sat down beside the ugly
little oak writing table he had bought at a second-hand sale and
opened the upper drawer.

Weeks before, Ruth, yielding to Babbie's urgent appeal, had
accompanied the latter to the studio of the local photographer and
there they had been photographed, together, and separately. The
results, although not artistic triumphs, being most inexpensive,
had been rather successful as likenesses. Babbie had come trotting
in to show Jed the proofs. A day or so later he found on