him eagerly. His answers were apparently exciting, for
presently she flung the door wide open to let him in, then ran to the
foot of the stairs, and shouted at the top of her voice--

"Papa, papa, come down! come directly! Here's old Keene, the old
Buffalo, and he says there is no God!"

Captain Caldwell descended the stairs hurriedly, but, on catching a
glimpse of his countenance, Beth did not wait to receive him.

She had to pass through the kitchen to get into the yard. It was the
busy time of the day, and Biddy and Anne and Riley, all without shoes
or stockings, were playing football with a bladder.

Biddy tried to detain Beth.

"Arrah, bad luck to ye, Biddy," Beth cried, imitating the brogue. "Let
me go, d'ye hear?"

"Holy Mother, preserve us!" Biddy exclaimed, crossing herself. "Don't
ye ever be afther wishin' anybody bad luck, Miss Beth; shure ye'll
bring it if ye do."

"Thin don't ye ever be afther stoppin' me when I want to be going,
Biddy," Beth rejoined, stamping her foot, "or I'll _blast_ ye," she
added as she passed out into the sunlight.

Fowls and ducks and Jim's pet pigeons were the only creatures moving in
the yard. Beth stood among them, watching them for a little, then went
to the cornbin in the stable, and got some oats. There was a shallow tub
of water for the birds to drink; Beth hunkered down beside it, and held
out her hand, full of corn. The pigeons were very tame, and presently a
beautiful blue-rock came up confidently, and began to eat. His eyes were
a deep rich orange colour. Beth caught him, and stroked his glossy
plumage, delighting in the exquisite metallic sheen on his neck and
breast. The colour gave her an almost painful sensation of pleasure,
which changed on a sudden into a fit of blind exasperation. Her grief
for the loss of Kitty had gripped her again with a horrid twinge. She
clenched her teeth in her pain, her fingers closed convulsively round
the pigeon's throat, and she held him out at arm's length, and shook him
viciously till the nictitating membrane dropped over his eyes, his head
sank back, his bill opened, and he hung from her hand, an inert heap of
ruffled feathers. Then the tension of her nerves relaxed; it was a
relief to have crushed the life out of something. She let the bird drop,
and stood looking at him, as an animal might have looked, with an
impassive face which betrays no shade of emotion. As she did so,
however, the bird showed signs of life; and, sudd