er company and sympathy in his hour of
trial.

When Elizabeth could catch Jane's attention through the window she
cautiously placed her finger on her lip and frowned a warning. Jane
nodded her comprehension and promptly bore her mother off to bed where
she gave the poor soul some salutary advice and left her to the meager
comfort of solitude and smelling salts.

* * * * *

Just before he retired that night, The Laird saw a light shine
suddenly forth from the Sawdust Pile. So he knew his son had selected
a home for his bride, and rage and bitterness mingled with his grief
and mangled pride to such an extent that he called upon God to take
him out of a world that had crumbled about his hoary head. He shook
his fist at the little light that blinked so far below him and Mrs.
McKaye, who had crept down stairs with a half-formed notion of
confessing to The Laird in the hope of mitigating her son's
offense--of, mother-like, taking upon her shoulders an equal burden of
the blame--caught a glimpse of old Hector's face, and her courage
failed her. Thoroughly frightened she returned noiselessly to her room
and wept, dry-eyed, for the fountain of her tears had long since been
exhausted.

Meanwhile, down at the Sawdust Pile, Nan was putting her drowsy son to
bed; in the little living-room her husband had lighted the driftwood
fire and had drawn the old divan up to the blue flames. He was sitting
with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, outlining
plans for their future, when Nan, having put her child to bed, came
and sat down beside him. He glanced at her with troubled eyes and
grinned a trifle foolishly.

"Happy?" he queried.

She nodded. "In a limited fashion only, dear heart. I'm thinking how
wonderfully courageous you have been to marry me and how tremendously
grateful I shall always be for your love and faith." She captured his
right hand and fondled it for a moment in both of hers, smiling a
little thoughtfully the while as if at some dear little secret. "Port
Agnew will think I married you for money," she resumed presently;
"your mother and sisters will think I married you to spite them and
your father will think I married you because you insisted and because
I was storm-tossed and had to find a haven from the world. But the
real reason is that I love you and know that some day I am going to
see more happiness in your eyes than I can see to-night."

Again, in that impulsi