omparative
peace.

In July, however, a new phase of the old difficulty arose. Nathan and
Susan Hornby were driving past the Hunter house one Sunday afternoon.
Elizabeth saw them and with a glad little shout ran to the road to greet
them.

Susan Hornby's delight was fully equal to her own. The two persuaded
Nathan to wait till Aunt Susan should have time to go into the house and
see the baby. Nathan would not go in, but sat waiting in offended
aloofness in the wagon.

"Why don't you come to see me, Elizabeth?" Aunt Susan whispered as they
went back to the wagon. "He's always loved you so, but he thinks--well,
he's always been so good to me about everything else, but his feelings are
awfully hurt about you. Can't you come soon?" She looked into the girl's
face with such a wealth of pent-up love that Elizabeth answered
positively:

"I will come next Sunday, Aunt Susan. You may look for us, for we'll be
there."

The glad look in Susan Hornby's eyes was a sad reproach to the younger
woman, and though Elizabeth wondered how she would get her husband's
consent, she made up her mind to force him by every means in her power to
comply. All through the week she had it upon her mind, but Elizabeth had
learned not to open a discussion till the necessity of action was upon
her, and it was not till Sunday morning that she mentioned the visit to
John.

Nothing but the pleading in Susan Hornby's face could have induced
Elizabeth to ask to be taken to see her at this time, but the troubled
whispering of Aunt Susan about this visit had awakened Elizabeth to the
tragedy of her neglect. Susan Hornby had never before whispered where
Nathan was concerned before. Elizabeth at last saw the loneliness of the
old couple. It would never do to continue such treatment of those who had
befriended her when she was in need.

Jack was fretful that Sunday morning and John walked the floor with him
while Elizabeth finished her breakfast dishes. The breakfast had been late
and it was time to get ready if they were to go. Her heart sank as she
approached the subject. Jack had not slept well of late. He was not ill,
but teething. Always a light sleeper, Elizabeth had kept the fact of his
indisposition to herself, hoping that John, who slept soundly, might not
be aware of it, but the baby had fretted in the daytime and was now
tossing restlessly in his father's arms. Elizabeth was worn out from the
loss of sleep and was half afraid to trust herself