of
courage to meet his other trials. Whenever he dwelt on these subjects,
doubts, perplexities, and resentment at his misfortunes so thronged his
mind that he was appalled; so he strove to occupy himself with the
immediate present.

Today, however, in recalling the past, his thoughts would question the
future and the outcome of his experiences. In accordance with his
simple, downright nature, he muttered, "I might as well face the truth
and have done with it. I don't know whether I'll ever see my wife
again or not; I don't know whether God is for me or against me.
Sometimes, I half think there isn't any God. I don't know what will
become of me when I die. I'm sure of only one thing--while I do live I
could take comfort in working the old place."

In brief, without ever having heard of the term, he was an agnostic,
but not one of the self-complacent, superior type who fancy that they
have developed themselves beyond the trammels of faith and are ever
ready to make the world aware of their progress.

At last he recognized that his long reverie was leading to despondency
and weakness; he rose, shook himself half angrily, and strode toward
the house. "I'm here, and here I'm going to stay," he growled. "As long
as I'm on my own land, it's nobody's business what I am or how I feel.
If I can't get decent, sensible women help, I'll close up my dairy and
live here alone. I certainly can make enough to support myself."

Jane met him with a summons to dinner, looking apprehensively at his
stern, gloomy face. Mrs. Mumpson did not appear. "Call her," he said
curtly.

The literal Jane returned from the parlor and said unsympathetically,
"She's got a hank'chif to her eyes and says she don't want no dinner."

"Very well," he replied, much relieved.

Apparently he did not want much dinner, either, for he soon started out
again. Mrs. Wiggins was not utterly wanting in the intuitions of her
sex, and said nothing to break in upon her master's abstraction.

In the afternoon Holcroft visited every nook and corner of his farm,
laying out, he hoped, so much occupation for both hands and thoughts as
to render him proof against domestic tribulations.

He had not been gone long before Mrs. Mumpson called in a plaintive
voice, "Jane!"

The child entered the parlor warily, keeping open a line of retreat to
the door. "You need not fear me," said her mother, rocking
pathetically. "My feelings are so hurt and crushed that I can only