at's past, is done with," he answered gloomily. "I don't know how
much she'll let me do, but I am going to help her in spite of herself.
That shack by the lake is an awful place. I swear I'll give her decent
surroundings and a chance to live.... I'm going down today."

"But, Forrie," his sister objected, "I want you to come home with me to
dinner. You haven't been to our house in a long time, not since the
night you came from Binghamton and went off to Skinner's in the storm."

"Helen, dear," Young explained, apologetically, "I can't come to your
house as long as Ebenezer feels toward me the way he does. You see,
don't you?"

"Oh, I suppose I do, but I just can't stand it. Eb has acted badly and
tried to shoulder it all off on you. But can't you overlook it, honey?"

"Why, Helen, how can I? I don't feel any too pleasant toward him, and he
doesn't want to be friends, either. He pays no attention to my wishes
but tries to ride rough shod over me. He regards my interest in Tess as
a personal affront. He persecutes her because he thinks he's annoying
me. But there, don't cry any more. You'll only make yourself ill! I
think you ought to go home and lie down. You've some one else besides
yourself and Eb to think of, dear girl."

"I know it," she sobbed, "and I've tried to show Ebenezer how happy we'd
be if he'd forget those people down the lake and let you do what you
want to. Sometimes I think he's lost his mind. I really don't know what
to do."

Helen rose from her chair.

"Nor do I," replied Young.

"But, Deforrest, don't you think if you talked to Ebenezer, he'd see
things differently?"

"I'm afraid not," said he, adjusting Mrs. Waldstricker's furs. "You see,
Eb's always had his own way in most things, and I can't take any other
position about Tess, and I won't."

"I wish you would come home with me," sighed Mrs. Waldstricker, when her
brother was tucking the sleigh robe about her.

"I'm sorry I can't, Helen. You'll hear from me soon," he promised, as
the sleigh moved away.

Half an hour later found the lawyer astride his horse, his fine face
clouded in sorrowful thought.

He cantered along the hard packed road. Here he noted the shimmering
veil of ice over some brooklet waterfall in a cleft of the hill side.
There the precise punctures of a rabbit track dotted the level snow of
the woods. Beyond a herd of cattle standing placidly around a
straw-stack blew clouds of vapor from their steaming nostrils. The