are open you might as well vote. If I marry Nan Brent are you each
prepared to forget that I am your brother?"

Elizabeth nodded calmly. She had gone too far now to develop weakness
when an assumption of invincible strength might yet win the day.

"I couldn't receive such a peculiar sister-in-law," Jane murmured,
evidently close to tears. "Surely, you would not expect us to take
such a woman to our hearts, Donald dear?"

"I did not build The Dreamerie for yon lass," The Laird burst forth
passionately.

His son stood with bowed head. "Have you, mother, or you, my sisters,
been down to the Sawdust Pile to thank Nan for inspiring me--no
matter how--with a desire to live? I think you realize that until she
came I was too unhappy--too disgusted with life--to care whether I got
well or not? Have you absolved yourselves of an obligation which must
be perfectly evident to perfect ladies?"

"We have not." Elizabeth's calm voice answered him. "What the girl did
was entirely of her own volition. She did it for your sake, and since
it is apparent that she plans to collect the reward of her
disinterested effort we have considered that a formal expression of
thanks would be superfluous."

"I see. I see. Well, perhaps you're right. I shall not quarrel with
your point of view. And you're all quite certain you will never recede
from your attitude of hostility toward Nan--under no circumstances, to
recognize her as my wife and extend to her the hospitality of The
Dreamerie?"

He challenged his father with a look and the old man slowly nodded an
affirmative. His mother thought Donald was about to yield to their
opposition and nodded likewise. "I have already answered that
question," Jane murmured tragically, and Elizabeth again reminded him
that it was not necessary for him to make a fool of himself.

"Well, I'm glad this affair has been ironed out--at last," Donald
assured them. "I had cherished the hope that when you knew Nan
better--" He choked up for a moment, then laid his hands on his
father's shoulders. "Well, sir," he gulped, "I'm going down to the
Sawdust Pile and thank Nan for saving my life. Not," he added
bitterly, "that I anticipate enjoying that life to the fullest for
some years to come. If I did not believe that time will solve the
problem--"

The Laird's heart leaped. "Tush, tush, boy. Run along and don't do
anything foolish." He slapped Donald heartily across the back while
the decisive sweep of that same h