fession and one Sadie had not intended to make.
Something big and sweet in Elizabeth had forced it from her. It
embarrassed Elizabeth Hunter, and it held things which could not be
discussed, and she turned the subject without answering.

"When did you lose the baby?"

"Oh, it only lived a couple of hours. You see it was too soon an'--an' it
wasn't right. Th' doctor didn't expect it t' live as long as it did, but
Luther would have it that it could, an' kept 'em a tryin' everything that
could be thought of."

Sadie's voice died away gradually and she lay looking out of the window
retrospectively: the last two weeks had brought food for much thinking.

"I didn't know, Lizzie, that a man could be as good as Luther. I'd always
kind o' hated men, an' I thought I'd have t' fight my way through, like
th' rest of th' women, an'--an'--he's that good an' thoughtful of me, an'
of everybody else, that I'm clean ashamed of myself half th' time. He
nearly had a fit when' he found out that I'd slipped with that wood. 'Twas
ironing day, an' th' box got empty--an' then, when th' baby died, it just
seemed as if he couldn't stand it."

She looked up at Elizabeth earnestly: "I never heard any one but th'
preacher pray out loud, Lizzie, an'--an'--somehow--well," she stumbled,
"Luther prayed so sweet, when he see it was gone--I--I ain't thought of
much else since. It--it seemed like th' baby'd done something good t' both
of us."

The spiteful, pettish face was for the moment ennobled by the reflected
glory of another's goodness and love. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of a
condition which makes heaven here upon earth. There was the harmony here
in the "shanty" such as she coveted and strove in vain to establish in her
own home. Of course there would be harmony where Luther Hansen was
concerned: Luther _was_ harmony. Ignoring his part in the little drama,
she was wise enough to touch the other side of the story in her reply.

"These little ones bring blessings all their own, Sadie," she said, giving
the hand on the patchwork quilt a little squeeze.

There was that in the impulsive little touch which was to be a lasting
reminder to Sadie Hansen that Elizabeth Hunter responded to the things
which were making of her life a different story. They had found common
ground, where neither scoffed at the other.

"Did your baby make you feel that way?" she asked earnestly.

* * * * *

When Luther came at