er life to others. I was much relieved when The
Pilot came in fresh and bright, waving a bunch of wild-flowers in his
hand.

"I thought they were all gone," he cried. "Where do you think I found
them? Right down by the big elm root," and, though he saw by the
settled gloom of her face that the storm was coming, he went bravely on
picturing the canyon in all the splendor of its autumn dress. But the
spell would not work. Her heart was out on the sloping hills, where the
cattle were bunching and crowding with tossing heads and rattling horns,
and it was in a voice very bitter and impatient that she cried:

"Oh, I am sick of all this! I want to ride! I want to see the cattle
and the men and--and--and all the things outside." The Pilot was cowboy
enough to know the longing that tugged at her heart for one wild race
after the calves or steers, but he could only say:

"Wait, Gwen. Try to be patient."

"I am patient; at least I have been patient for two whole months, and
it's no use, and I don't believe God cares one bit!"

"Yes, He does, Gwen, more than any of us," replied The Pilot, earnestly.

"No, He does not care," she answered, with angry emphasis, and The Pilot
made no reply.

"Perhaps," she went on, hesitatingly, "He's angry because I said I
didn't care for Him, you remember? That was very wicked. But don't you
think I'm punished nearly enough now? You made me very angry, and I
didn't really mean it."

Poor Gwen! God had grown to be very real to her during these weeks
of pain, and very terrible. The Pilot looked down a moment into the
blue-gray eyes, grown so big and so pitiful, and hurriedly dropping on
his knees beside the bed he said, in a very unsteady voice:

"Oh, Gwen, Gwen, He's not like that. Don't you remember how Jesus was
with the poor sick people? That's what He's like."

"Could Jesus make me well?"

"Yes, Gwen."

"Then why doesn't He?" she asked; and there was no impatience now, but
only trembling anxiety as she went on in a timid voice: "I asked Him to,
over and over, and said I would wait two months, and now it's more than
three. Are you quite sure He hears now?" She raised herself on her elbow
and gazed searchingly into The Pilot's face. I was glad it was not into
mine. As she uttered the words, "Are you quite sure?" one felt that
things were in the balance. I could not help looking at The Pilot with
intense anxiety. What would he answer? The Pilot gazed out of the window
upon the hills f