e, with an anxious backward
glance, "he's got to learn to treat her with a little consideration."

"Quit your quarreling," Roger said. "What's a week in the mountains to you?
Hasn't your wife just risked her life?"

"Sure she has," said Bruce feelingly. "And I propose to stick by her, too."

"Can I see her?"

"No, you can't--another of Baird's fool notions."

"Then where's the baby?"

"Right in here."

Silently in front of the cradle Bruce and Roger stood looking down with the
content which comes to men on such occasions when there is no woman by
their side expecting them to say things.

"I made it a rule in my family," Roger spoke up presently, "to have my
first look at each child alone."

"Same here," said Bruce. And they continued their silent communion. A few
moments later, as they were leaving, Deborah came into the room and went
softly to the cradle. Downstairs they found that Allan had gone, and when
Deborah rejoined them she said she was going to stick to her plan. It was
soon arranged that she and the youngsters should start on their journey the
following day.

Back at home she threw herself into the packing and was busy till late that
night. At daybreak she was up again, for they were to make an early start.
Bruce came with his new automobile, the children were all bundled in,
together with Deborah and their nurse, and a half hour later at the train
Bruce and Roger left them--Deborah flushed and happy, surrounded by
luggage, wraps, small boys, an ice box, toys and picture books. The small
red hat upon her head had already been jerked in a scrimmage, far down over
one of her ears.

"Don't worry about us, Bruce," she said. "We're going to have the time of
our lives!" Bruce fairly beamed his gratitude.

"If she don't marry," he declared, as he watched the train move slowly out,
"there'll be a great mother wasted."

CHAPTER VII

In the weeks which followed, Roger found the peace of his home so
interrupted and disturbed by wedding preparations that often retreating
into his den he earnestly told himself he was through, that a man with
three grown daughters was a fool to show any sympathy with the utter folly
of their lives. Yield an inch and they took a mile! It began one night when
Deborah said,

"Now, dearie, I think you had better make up your mind to give Laura just
the kind of wedding she likes."

And Roger weakly agreed to this, but as time wore on he discovered that the
kind of w