Mademoiselle
Saucier, my lad."

"But you are the worst one," said Pierre eagerly. "Odile thinks if you
let her alone we may get her."

"But I can't let her alone. I see the force of your claims, but human
nature is so perverse, Pierre, that I want her worse than ever."

Pierre dug with his heel in the grass. His determined countenance
delighted the rival.

"Monsieur, if you do get her, you have our whole family to beat."

"Yes, I see what odds there are against me," owned Rice.

"We are going to marry her if we can--and my father is willing. He is
nearly always willing to please us."

"This is fair and open," pronounced Rice, "and the way for gentlemen to
treat each other. You have done the right thing in coming to talk this
matter over with me."

"I'm not sure of that, m'sieur."

"I am, for there is nothing better than fair and open rivalry. And after
all, nobody can settle this but Mademoiselle Saucier herself. She may
not be willing to take any of us. But, whatever the result, shake hands,
Pierre."

The boy transferred his riding-whip, and met the lawyer's palm with a
hearty grasp. They shook hands, laughing, and Pierre felt surprised to
find how well he liked Rice Jones.

As the wide and capacious Kaskaskia houses were but a single story high,
Maria's bedroom was almost in the garden. Sweet-brier stretched above
the foundation and climbed her window; and there were rank flowers,
such as marigolds and peppery bouncing-betties, which sent her pungent
odors. Sometimes she could see her stepmother walking the graveled paths
between the vegetable beds, or her father and Rice strolling back and
forth together of an evening. Each one was certain to bring her
something,--a long-stemmed pink, or phlox in a bunch, like a handful of
honeycomb. The gardener pulled out dead vines and stalks and burned them
behind a screen of bushes, the thin blue smoke trailing low.

Her father would leave his office to sit beside her, holding the hand
which grew thinner every day. He had looked forward to his daughter's
coming as a blossoming-time in his life. Maria had not left her bed
since the night of her hemorrhage. A mere fortnight in the Territory
seemed to have wasted half her little body.

When you have strained to bear your burden and keep up with the world's
march, lightly commiserated by the strong, there is great peace in
finally giving up and lying down by the roadside. The hour often
fiercely wished for, and as o