's true," she admitted, "but Allan's ambition is work. He works
and is satisfied, but Beulah thinks, and is not satisfied. It's the
difference in their nature, and we didn't take it into
consideration." In every phrase she tried to link his blame with
hers, that the burden might unite instead of separate them.

"If she'd thought a little more before this mad prank it would have
been better for everybody," he said, "Well, she'll have plenty of
time to think yet." He stepped to the kitchen door, and from the nail
above took down the repeating-rifle.

"You're not going to take that!" she cried. "Don't take that, John.
It can't possibly do any good, and it may do a lot of harm."

"I won't do anything foolish," he answered, "but I'll take it along,
just the same."

Allan, with the drivers harnessed to the top buggy, was now at the
door. Without saying good-bye to his wife Harris joined him, and the
two set off on their search. Almost at the gate they met George
Grant, who had come over to haul water for another day's ploughing.
He stopped in some surprise at the turnout.

"I guess we won't be ploughing to-day," said Harris. He hesitated
before George's questioning look, and a certain sense of family shame
came upon him. But it was evident that he could hardly search for
Beulah without mentioning her departure, and he might as well make a
clean breast of the affair.

"Nothing wrong at home, I hope, Mr. Harris?" said the young
neighbour, noting his troubled appearance. "Nobody sick, or
anything?"

"Yes, there is something wrong," said Harris, trying vainly to
conceal the bitterness in his voice. "Beulah's left us."

"Who, Beulah? I can hardly believe that, Mr. Harris. It was only last
night I was talking with her."

"Well, she's gone. Left through the night. We--well, I'll tell you,
George--we had a little disagreement, but I'd no notion she'd take it
so much to heart. Of course you know about the trouble with Jim
yesterday. Taking everything together--there won't be no ploughing
to-day." Harris had said more than he meant; he could feel the colour
mounting into his hair, and the bad English of his last words
betrayed a subtle recklessness rather than carelessness of speech.

"Don't you believe a word of it," said George. "I know Jim, and I
know Beulah, and if anybody else hinted what you've said you'd want
to use that rifle on them. Like enough Beulah's staying somewhere
around the neighbourhood, and she'll be ba