the door behind him, shutting
Henry in, who, thoroughly repentant, remained to be of service.

Cassi, who had staggered to his feet, seeing him, made an attack upon
him, muttering as he swayed in uncertain advance:

"Yer hed no bizness ter drag my sister's name inter this bar-room!"

He tried to shake off Lizzi's enfolding arms, but they held him firmly.

"It's all right, dear Cassi. You fought hard; but Hen's apologized, and
if you make a noise you will wake mother. Now go to bed."

She led him to the foot of the stairs and kissed him good-night. He
obeyed her, for her will was dominant in that household.

CHAPTER XII.

LIZZI PROVES HER INNOCENCE.

When Cassi had entered his room, Lizzi lifted her mother and laid her on
her bed. Then she sent Levi for Margaret Reed, a little, winning,
sympathetic woman who was summoned on all occasions. In times of sorrow
she shed a soft radiance on darkened hearts, and in times of rejoicing
she was bright as the sunshine. "Send for Gret"--no one called her Mrs.
Reed; toddlers said "Det"--was the suggestion of sadness, the impulse of
joy, and Gret, childless herself, but mother to all the babies and
sister to all the mothers of the village, answered every call.

She had no rebuke for Henry Myers, whom she met as she entered the
McAnay home, except such as just hearts will sometimes express by an
unconscious manner of repugnance. Henry was sensitive enough to feel it,
and he departed cursing himself bitterly.

Gret went straight to Lizzi, and felt like a giantess as the latter
knelt before her and clung to her dress.

"I killed her, Gret; I killed her. I never told her, and it broke her
heart; and I am a murderer, worse than Henry Myers would have been if he
had killed Cassi. She couldn't think it was all right, and when she
heard the boys was fighting for me, she couldn't stand it any longer and
just died where I left her. And I was so crazy to have Cassi brought
home, so I could say to her, 'There, mother, you see how he believed in
me, fightin' till he died;' but the Lord shut her eyes so she couldn't
see the cruel sight. Yes, I'm punished for my stubborn silence. If I had
showed it to her she wouldn't have died so sudden."

Gret did not invite confidence by asking Lizzi what she should have
shown her mother.

"And poor father," Lizzi continued, "away out in the cabin alone, his
wife dead and his daughter disgraced--how will I tell him that mother is
dead?"

"I'll