n into town with me
because it will be so late." Then, with a burst of confession she spoke
more deliberately. "That isn't exactly the reason, Dennison; Frank
doesn't know I have let Sarah go, and I--I can't explain."

Her face shone pink and warm in the glow of the firelight, and as the
significance of her words sank in upon him Grant marvelled at that
wizardry of the gods which could bring such homage to the foot of man.
A tenderness such as he had never known suffused him; her very presence
was holy.

"Bring the boy over and let him spend the night with me. We are great
chums and we shall get along splendidly."

CHAPTER XXI

Grant spent his Sunday forenoon in an exhaustive house-cleaning
campaign. Bachelor life on the farm is not conducive to domestic
delicacy, and although Grant had never abandoned the fundamentals he had
allowed his interpretation of essential cleanliness to become somewhat
liberal. The result was that the day of rest usually confronted him
with a considerable array of unwashed pots and pans and other culinary
utensils. To-day, while the tawny autumn hills seemed to fairly heave
and sigh with contentment under a splendor of opalescent sunshine, he
scoured the contents of his kitchen until they shone; washed the floor;
shook the rugs from the living-room and swept the corners, even behind
the gramophone; cleared the ashes from the hearth and generally set his
house in order, for was not she to call upon him that evening on her
way to town, and was not little Wilson--he of the high adventures with
teddy-bear and knife and pig--to spend the night with him?

When he was able to view his handiwork with a feeling that even feminine
eyes would find nothing to offend, Grant did an unwonted thing. He
unlocked the whim-room and opened the windows that the fresh air might
play through the silent chamber. To the west the mountains looked down
in sombre placidity as they had looked down every bright autumn morning
since the dawn of time, their shoulders bathed in purple mist and their
snow-crowned summits shining in the sun. For a long time Grant stood
drinking in the scene; the fertile valley lying with its square farms
like a checker-board of the gods, with its round little lakes beating
back the white sunshine like coins from the currency of the Creator; the
ruddy copper-colored patches of ripe wheat, and drowsy herds motionless
upon the receding hills; the blue-green ribbon of river with its yell