to marry Allan
Baird." She stirred slightly:

"Did he tell you so?"

"Yes--I asked him," Roger replied. "I had Allan here a few nights ago, and
he told me you had decided to give up your happiness for the sake of all
those children in that big family of yours. You felt you must keep yourself
free for them. Very well, if that is your decision I propose to clear the
way." She looked intently up at his face. "You're not free now," he
continued. "We have Edith and her children here. And I'm growing old--that
has got to be thought of--I don't want to leave them on your hands. So as
soon as the baby is well enough, I'm going to move them up to the
mountains--not only for the summer--they are to stay the whole year
'round. From this time on they're to make it their home."

"Father! But they can't do that! Think of the winters!" Deborah cried.

"It's already settled," he answered. "I've talked to Edith and she has
agreed. She has always loved the farm, and it will be good for her
children. In the meantime I've been talking to George. 'George,' I told
him, 'I'm going to talk to you, man to man, about a man's job I want you to
tackle.'"

"The farm? But, dearie! He's only a boy!"

"He's nearly seventeen," said Roger, "and a young moose for his age. And
old Dave Royce will still be there. It's the work George has been dreaming
about ever since he was a child. You should have seen how he was thrilled
by the scheme. I told him we'd spend the summer together up there laying
all our plans, investing our money carefully to make every dollar count."

"What money?" Deborah sharply asked. But her father was talking steadily
on:

"We already have a fine lot of cattle. We'll add to it and enlarge the barn
and put in some new equipment. In short, we'll put it in fine shape, make
it a first class dairy farm. 'And then, George,' I said to him, 'I'm going
to turn it over to you. I shall give the farm to your mother, and the rest
of the money I have I mean to invest in her name down here, so that she'll
have a small income until you can make your dairy pay.'"

"What money are you speaking of?" Deborah's voice was thick and hard, her
sensitive lips were parted and she was breathing quickly.

"I've sold the house," he told her. Convulsively she gripped his arms:

"Then tell me where _you_ mean to live!"

"I'm not going to live--I'm going to die--very soon--I have definite
knowledge."

Without speaking Deborah rose; her face went whi