and restless, drank it thirstily, and said it was
good, but it roused her so that she began to talk again.

"He said I couldn't prevent his praying for me," she was harping on
the minister. "For my soul," she laughed uneasily. "I told him to let
my soul alone. It's perfectly funny, Malise, that I've got to be
prayed over when I don't want to be."

The night wore on. Celeste was nodding, even while her brown hands
went on rubbing up and down the slim white wrist and arm.

The wood on the andirons broke and fell apart. The room grew shadowy.
"Build it up, Malise," begged Molly; "I like it light."

There was no more wood up-stairs. It was past twelve o'clock and the
house was still. Alexina opened the door into the hall. A lamp in case
of need, because of Molly, was burning on a stand. Alexina had
remembered that there was wood piled on the parlour hearth. Her
slippers were noiseless.

Down-stairs she paused, then tip-toed to the front door. The big
thermometer and barometer in one hung against a side of the recess and
could be seen through the glass side-lights. It was bright moonlight
now, the shadows of the rose vine clear cut on the porch floor. She
looked at the thermometer.

She looked again.

It had come, then, what never had come to Aden before. From the talk
of the day she had gleaned enough to know that the fruit hanging on
William Leroy's trees was but so much sodden, worthless pulp.

She turned back towards the parlour where the firelight was flickering
out the doorway, then stopped. He was in his father's chair before the
hearth. His elbow was on his knee and the hand on which his chin was
propped was clenched. The flame flared up. His face was haggard and
harsh.

She fled back up-stairs. Molly had fallen asleep, Celeste was
nodding.

The girl shut the door and dropped in a little heap on the bearskin
before the fire. She was shivering, but in her eyes, fixed on the
embers, was a yearning, brooding light that made them beautiful. Then
suddenly she hid her face in her hands, her head bowed on her knees,
and began to sob.

CHAPTER TEN

The Captain, Mrs. Leroy and Alexina, on the gallery, watched King as
he trudged across the yard. He was going for his horse that he might
take a telegram into Aden for Alexina, who was to leave the following
morning.

He trudged sturdily and was whistling under his breath as he went.

"But it's a debt--I owe it to you," said the girl suddenly, turning on