o try not to have life make them worse instead of better. That's not
much to ask--but nobody I know, but one only has--"

"Simplicity and right living don't come from camping out in a shed,"
said the doctor angrily. "Externals are nothing. If the heart is right
and simple--"

"If the heart is right and simple, nothing else matters. That is what I
say," answered Lydia.

Dr. Melton gave a gesture of cutting the question short. "Well, of
course it's quite impossible! Rankin can't possibly have any claim on
your children in the event of your death. Think of all your family, who
would be--"

"_I think of them_," said Lydia with an accent so strange that the
doctor was halted. "Oh, I have thought of them!" she said again. She put
her hands over her eyes. "Could I not make a will, and appoint as
guardian--" she began to ask.

Dr. Melton cut her short with a sound like a laugh, although his face
was savage. "Did you never hear of wills being contested? How long do
you suppose a will you make under the present circumstances would stand
against an attack on it by your family and the Hollisters, with their
money and influence!"

"Oh! Oh!" moaned Lydia, "and I shall not be here to--"

Rankin stirred throughout all his great height and broke his silence.
He said to Lydia: "There is some way--there must be some way. I will
find it."

Lydia took down her hands and showed a face so ravaged by the emotions
of the colloquy that the physician in her godfather sprang up through
the wounded jealousy of the man. "Lydia, my dear, you must stop--this is
idiotic of me to allow you--not another word. You must go into the house
this instant and lie down and rest--"

He bent over her with his old, anxious, exasperated, protecting air.
Lydia seized his hands. Her own were hot and burning. "Rest! I can't
rest with all this unsettled! I go over and over it--how can I sleep!
How can you think that your little opiates will make me forget that my
children may be helpless, with no one to protect them--" She looked
about her wildly. "Why, little Ariadne may be given to _Madeleine_!" Her
horrified eyes rested again on her godfather. She drew him to her. "Oh,
help me! You've always been kind to me. Help me now!"

There was a silence, the two exchanging a long gaze. The man's forehead
was glistening wet. Finally, his breath coming short, he said: "Yes; I
will help you," and, his eyes still on hers, put out a hand toward
Rankin.

The younger ma