sunset that he had seen many a time in his years in Kansas. And yet, on
this evening it did not seem quite the same; nor were the sunsets, New
Eden, and the Sage Brush Valley from this evening ever quite as they had
been before, to York Macpherson.

V

NEW EDEN'S PROBLEM

Because of a broken "culbert" out toward "S'liny" the afternoon train on
the Sage Brush branch was annulled for the day. Because of this
annulment the mail for the Sage Brush Valley was brought up on the local
freight, which is always behind time when it reaches its terminal, which
accounted for the late delivery of the mail at the New Eden post-office,
which made York Macpherson's dinner late because of a big batch of
letters to be read, and an important business call at the Commercial
Hotel following the reading and the delivery of Mr. Ponk's message.

Purple shadows were beginning to fold down upon the landscape, while
overhead the sky was still heliotrope and gold, but York Macpherson,
walking slowly homeward, saw neither the shadows nor the glory that
overhung them. It was evident to his sister Laura, who was waiting for
him in the honeysuckle corner of the big front porch, that his mind was
burdened with something unusual to-night.

York Macpherson was a "leading citizen" type of the Middle West.
Wholesome, ruggedly handsome, prosperous, shrewd to read men's minds,
quick to meet their needs, full of faith in the promise of the Western
prairies, with the sort of culture no hardship of the plains could ever
overcome--that was York. Although he was on the front edge of middle
life in years, with a few gray streaks in his wavy brown hair, he had
the young-looking face, the alert action, and vigorous atmosphere of a
young-hearted man just entered into his full heritage of manhood.

"The train was delayed down the river on account of sand drifted over
the track by the south wind, and that made the mail late," York
explained, when he reached the porch. "I'll bet you have had the house
shut up tight as wax and have gone about all day with a dust-cloth in
your hand. Given a south wind and Laura Macpherson, and you have a home
industry in no time. Let's hurry up the dinner" (it was always dinner to
the Macphersons and supper to the remainder of New Eden) "and get
outside again as soon as possible. I can't think in shut-up rooms."

"When there is a south wind it makes little difference whether or not
one does any thinking. I postpone that j