," he cried, appealing to the blue vault above him in
which the stars were beginning to appear. "I can't refuse her. I just
can't. She wants her so--my poor, poor Jessie."

* * * * *

It was late in the evening when Scipio returned from the camp driving
Minky's buckskin mule and ancient buckboard. His mind was made up. He
would start out directly after breakfast on the morrow. He had
resorted to a pitiful little subterfuge in borrowing Minky's
buckboard. He had told the storekeeper that he had heard of a prospect
some distance out, and he wanted to inspect it. He said he intended to
take Vada with him, but wished to leave Jamie behind. Minky, as a
member of the Trust, had promptly lent him the conveyance, and
volunteered to have Jamie looked after down at the store by Birdie
until he returned. So everything was made easy for him, and he came
back to his home beyond the dumps with the first feeling of
contentment he had experienced since his wife had deserted him.

Having made the old mule snug for the night on the leeward side of the
house, he prepared to go to bed. There was just one remaining duty to
perform, however, before he was free to do so. He must set things
ready for breakfast on the morrow. To this end he lit the lamp.

In five minutes his preparations were made, and, after one final look
round, he passed over to the door to secure it. He stood for a moment
drinking in the cool night air. Yes, he felt happier than he had done
for days. Nor could he have said why. It was surely something to do
with Jessie's letter, and yet the letter seemed to offer little enough
for hope.

He was going to part with Vada, a thought which filled him with
dismay, and yet there was hope in his heart. But then where the head
might easily enough fail his heart had accepted responsibility. There
was a note in the woman's appeal which struck a responsive chord in
his own credulous heart, and somehow he felt that his parting with
Vada was not to be for long. He felt that Jessie would eventually come
back to him. He felt, though he did not put the thought into words,
that no woman could feel as she did about her children, and be utterly
dead to all the old affection that had brought them into the world.

He turned away at last. The air was good to breathe to-night, the
world was good after all. Yes, it was better than he had thought it.
There was much to be done to-morrow, so he would "tu