ed. She was wondering, too. And, wondering, the
memory of her promise to Murray rose up threateningly before her. She
turned slowly back to the stove for no definite purpose, and, so
turning, she shook her head.

Later, Jessie returned, the last sign of her ill-humor completely gone.
Behind her came the two men of her mother's household. And so the
evening meal progressed to its conclusion.

Later still Father Jose and his two visitors foregathered in the
hospitable living-room, and, for the time at least, Ailsa Mowbray gave
no further thought to her disquiet, or to the appeal Murray had made to
her.

CHAPTER IX

MURRAY TELLS HIS STORY

For a whole week Ailsa Mowbray was given no further opportunity of
dwelling upon the possibilities of the situation between Jessie and
Murray McTavish. John Kars pervaded the Mission with a personality too
buoyant to allow of lurking shadows. On the mother he had an effect
like the voice of hope urging her to a fuller appreciation of the life
about her, an even greater desire for the fulfilment of those
responsibilities which the passing of her husband had thrust upon her.
His great figure, his strong, reliant face, his decision of manner, all
combined to sweep any doubt from the path of the simple folk at St.
Agatha's Mission.

The only person who escaped his cheering influence, perhaps, was Murray
McTavish. Father Jose yielded Kars a friendship and liking almost
equal to the friendship which had sent him to Leaping Horse in the
depths of winter on behalf of Allan Mowbray's widow. This man was a
rock upon which the old priest, for all his own strength of character,
was not ashamed to seek support. To Alec he was something of a hero in
all those things for which his youthful soul yearned. Was he not the
master of great wealth? Did he not live in Leaping Horse, where life
pulsated with a rush, and no lagging, sluggish stream of existence
could find a place? Then, too, the instinct of the trail which the
youth had inherited from his father, was not John Kars endowed with it
all?

But the week of this man's stay had more meaning for Jessie than for
any one else. Her frank delight in his presence found no denial.
Every shadow was banished out of her life by it. Her days were
rendered doubly bright. Her nights were illuminated by happy dreams.
His kindness to her, his evident delight in her company, were sources
of unspeakable happiness.

He had brought presen