threw them out
into the yard. Standing at the door, and glancing down the road, she
spied Mrs. Mayfield, Jim, Tom and Lou coming from a stroll among the
hills. Back into the house she ran, snatched down a turkey-wing fan from
a nail in the wall, dusted a rocking-chair, smoothed herself, and was
rocking placidly as any lady of leisure when the hill-side romancers
entered the room.

CHAPTER XII.

DIDN'T DO ANYTHING HEROIC.

During all the morning Jim had been silent. Standing on a purple knob,
arms folded, gazing far away toward the rugged scenes of his life's
work, he had reminded the world-woman of some discoverer, a Cortez
viewing the Pacific; and when to break the spell of his attitude she
asked him why he gazed so fixedly, he replied: "I am looking away off
yander at the duty I am neglecting, ma'm."

"Why, you couldn't neglect a duty, Mr. Reverend."

"I didn't think so, but I am. I put myself in mind of the old feller
that stood all day a smelling of a rose bush when the weeds were choking
his corn. In my wheat field the tares are coming up, now that I am away,
and I ought to be there to pull them up by the roots."

"But you need a vacation. Ail preachers take vacations. Why, in the
cities, they--"

"Yes, ma'm," he broke in. "Sometimes they shut up their churches, I
know, and they go away from their desks and their pulpits; but they are
learned men, bristling with sharp points against the man who attacks
their creed. I am not armed that way. I can't argue; I can't defend the
church against the smart men that Satan has hired. All I can do is to
preach in my rough way and go about and beg men to do as near right as
they can."

"And St. Paul could not have done more, Mr. Reverend."

"Ah," he said, bowing low, and then looking up at her. "I am afraid of
St. Paul. He was a great scholar and in his hands the gospel was a
dazzling thing. But with poor, ignorant Peter it was simple; and I
choose Peter for my master because I am not afraid of him."

Below them Tom and Lou sat on a rock. The game young fellow was still
shy. Sometimes he looked as if he despaired of ever recovering his
wonted nerve, for in this girl, so modest and so shrinking, he knew that
there lay asleep the wildcat's fearful spirit. Bold by nature he longed
at times to see this spirit blaze, but her soft eyes pleaded with him
and gentleness made him afraid.

* * * * *

"Come right in," said Margaret as