to--what? Hasn't he sent the old doctor's boy into--what?
The Almighty has got all sorts to deal with--and he's got Maclin, but
we've got what's left. Peter, I put it up to you--what are we going to
do about it?"

"What can we do?" Peter placed his two hands on his wide-spread
knees--for he had dropped exhausted into his chair. "Has any one heard
of Larry?"

This sudden question roused Aunt Polly; she had hoped it would not be
asked.

"Yes, Peter. Twombley has," she faltered.

"Where is he?" Peter's mouth gaped.

"The letter said that when he came back we'd be proud of him
and"--Polly choked--"he begged our pardons--for Maclin. He's gone to
that war--over there. He said it was all he could do--with himself, to
prove against Maclin."

A silence fell in the warm, sunny room. Then Polly spoke with a catch
in her voice:

"Twombley and Peneluna hold that we better not tell Mary-Clare. Better
give Larry a chance to do his proving--before we get any hopes or
fears to acting up."

"I guess that's sensible," Peter nodded, "he mightn't do it, you
know."

Polly was watching her brother. She saw the dejection dropping from
his face like a mask; the hypnotism of fear and repulsion was losing
its hold.

"It's powerful hot here!" Peter muttered, wiping his face. "And what
in thunder ails that dog?"

Ginger was certainly acting queer. He was circling around, sniffing,
sniffing, his nose in the air, his tail wagging. He edged over to the
door and smelt at the crack.

"Fits?" Peter looked concerned. But Polly had an inspiration.

"I believe, Peter," she said solemnly, "Ginger smells--spring! I
thought I did myself as I came along. There were fluffy green edges by
the water. I do love edges, Peter! Let's open the door wide, brother.
We get so used to winter, and live so close, that sometimes we don't
know spring is near. But it is, Peter, it is always on the edge of
winter and God has made dogs terrible knowing. See! There, now, Ginger
old fellow, what's the matter?"

Polly flung the door open and Ginger gave a glad cry and leaped out. A
soft breath of air touched the two gentle old people in the doorway
and a fragrance of young, edgy things thrilled them.

"Peter dear, spring is here!" Polly said this like a prayer.

"Spring!" Peter's voice echoed the sound. Then he turned to the closet
for his coat and hat.

"Where you going, brother?"

The big bulky figure, ready for a new adventure, turned at the door.

"Ju