ings, and life in the Hunter house took on a brighter complexion than
it had ever before assumed.

John, who had been sleeping in Hugh's room since Elizabeth's serious
illness, returned to his own bed. He looked about him for Jack the first
night and asked where he was.

"I sent him up to Hepsie's room," Elizabeth said quietly.

"To sleep!"

"Yes."

"The children in the Hunter family are not put into the servants' beds,"
John Hunter replied. The unexplained statement was offensive to a man
accustomed to being consulted.

To punish her John went to sleep without giving her the usual good-night
kiss.

"He'd have been cross, anyhow," was all the thought she gave that part of
the circumstance. Could John Hunter have known that the absence of that
kiss was a relief, and that he made of his presence sometimes an
intolerable nightmare, he might have saved for himself a corner in her
tired heart against the days to come. John's zeal and passion had gone
into the pursuit of their courtship days. Now they were married,
possession was a fact: Elizabeth was his wife.

Elizabeth understood that John was whimsical and tyrannical, but not
intentionally evil, but in spite of the fact that she had John's character
summed up and understood that much that he did was not deliberately
intended to do her injury, that little of it was in fact, she felt a
growing disinclination for his presence. The unloved, undesired child
which she had lost was a warning guidepost pointing its finger away from a
continuance of marital relations. No conditions could make it right for
her to have another child till love again existed between them. She saw
that nothing could excuse or make decent the child of wornout conditions;
nothing but affection made marriage worthy, and when that affection had
departed from a man and woman, to thrust life upon a child was a crime
against that child, a crime against nature and a crime against themselves
and society; yet, what could she do? Her health was broken, and she
without means of support. After Aunt Susan's death the girl had seriously
considered separation; she still considered it, but not seriously. Though
she cried "Fool! fool!" many times, she had given her youth, her health,
her strength to John Hunter, and her wages--food and clothing--she must
accept.

CHAPTER XX

THE CREAM-JARS OF HER LIFE

While Elizabeth progressed toward health the work on the Hunter farm
progressed also. Because of