call me _Jim_
because she does--do you hear?"

The whimsical face lowered a little, then the rare and beautiful dark blue
eyes raised slowly, shaded by the long lashes, and the voice said,
demurely, "Yes--Jim."

"Nancy--Nancy," said a voice from the corner in reproof, mingled with
suppressed laughter. "Nancy, you mustn't be saucy. You must say 'father'
to--"

"Yes, mummy. I'll say father to--Jim."

"You imp--you imp of delight," said Jim, as he strained the dainty little
lass to his breast, while she appeared interested in a wave of his black
hair, which she curled around her finger.

Sally came forward with the little parcel of sandwiches she had been
preparing, and put them in the saddlebags lying on a chair at the door, in
readiness for the journey Jim was about to make. Her eyes were glistening,
and her face had a heightened color. The three years which had passed
since she married had touched her not at all to her disadvantage, rather
to her profit. She looked not an hour older; motherhood had only added to
her charm, lending it a delightful gravity. The prairie life had given a
shining quality to her handsomeness, an air of depth and firmness, an
exquisite health and clearness to the color in her cheeks. Her step was as
light as Nancy's, elastic and buoyant--a gliding motion which gave a
sinuous grace to the movements of her body. There had also come into her
eyes a vigilance such as deaf people possess, a sensitive observation
imparting a deeper intelligence to the face.

Here was the only chance by which you could guess the story of her life.
Her eyes were like the ears of an anxious mother who can never sleep till
every child is abed; whose sense is quick to hear the faintest footstep
without or within; and who, as years go on, and her children grow older
and older, must still lie awake hearkening for the late footstep on the
stair. In Sally's eyes was the story of the past three years: of love and
temptation and struggle, of watchfulness and yearning and anxiety, of
determination and an inviolable hope. Her eyes had a deeper look than that
in Jim's. Now, as she gazed at him, the maternal spirit rose up from the
great well of protectiveness in her and engulfed both husband and child.
There was always something of the maternal in her eyes when she looked at
Jim. He did not see it--he saw only the wonderful blue, and the humor
which had helped him over such difficult places these past three years. In
stea