of the mackinaw coat he wore at his work was turned up about his
throat. He leaned upon an axe with which he had been cutting the coarser
brush in the fence corners. The wind ruffled his hair as he stood thus,
in the fading light. He had been busy all afternoon and quite unmindful
of his aunt's party, to which, for reasons sufficient to that lady, he
had not been bidden.

A sense of his rugged simplicity and manliness seemed to be borne to
Phil across the ravine. Something in Fred Holton touched her with a kind
of pathos--there was in him something of her father's patience, and
something of his capacity for suffering. As she looked he swung the axe
upon his shoulders and struck off homeward across the fields.

Charles sprang ahead of her and began the remainder of the ascent. It
was he who was now impatient.

"We must hurry unless you want the crowd to carry us up."

"Let me go ahead," she answered, ignoring the hand he reached down to
her, and eager to finish the undertaking. "There's nothing hard about
the rest of it and I know every inch of the path."

CHAPTER XV

LOIS

A lady stepped from the westbound train at Montgomery just at nightfall
on the day before Christmas. The porter of the parlor car pulled down
more luggage than travellers usually bring to Montgomery, and its
surfaces were plastered with steamship and hotel labels. Amzi
Montgomery, who had been lurking in the shadow of the baggage-room for
some time, advanced and shook hands hurriedly.

"Well, Lois!"

"Well, Amzi!"

In the electric-lighted shed the lady might have been seen to smile at
the brevity and colorlessness of this exchange, or possibly at the haste
with which Amzi was crossing the platform to the hack-stand.

"Here are my checks, please, Amzi. Don't be discouraged--there are only
six of them!" she said cheerfully; her remarks being punctuated by the
thump of her trunks as they were tumbled out of the baggage-car. She
stood glancing about with careless interest while Amzi shouted for the
transfer man. She trailed her umbrella composedly as she idled about the
platform, refreshing herself with deep inhalations of the crisp December
air, while Amzi ordered the trunks delivered to his own house.

Her brother's perturbation was in no wise reflected in Mrs. Holton's
manner. To all appearances she was at peace with the world, and
evidently the world had treated her kindly. Her handsome sables spoke
for prosperity, her hat for