ing her
plated fork in her chubby fist by its middle, and, from his previous
knowledge of her, was likely at any moment to plunge it into the dish
before her, said softly,--

"Hush!"

"Yes, you shall, dear," said Mrs. Peyton, with tenderly beaming
assurance to Susy and a half-reproachful glance at the boy. "Eat what
you like, darling."

"It's a fork," whispered the still uneasy Clarence, as Susy now seemed
inclined to stir her bowl of milk with it.

"'Tain't, now, Kla'uns, it's only a split spoon," said Susy.

But Mrs. Peyton, in her rapt admiration, took small note of these
irregularities, plying the child with food, forgetting her own meal, and
only stopping at times to lift back the forward straying curls on Susy's
shoulders. Mr. Peyton looked on gravely and contentedly. Suddenly the
eyes of husband and wife met.

"She'd have been nearly as old as this, John," said Mrs. Peyton, in a
faint voice.

John Peyton nodded without speaking, and turned his eyes away into the
gathering darkness. The man "Harry" also looked abstractedly at his
plate, as if he was saying grace. Clarence wondered who "she" was, and
why two little tears dropped from Mrs. Peyton's lashes into Susy's milk,
and whether Susy might not violently object to it. He did not know until
later that the Peytons had lost their only child, and Susy comfortably
drained this mingled cup of a mother's grief and tenderness without
suspicion.

"I suppose we'll come up with their train early tomorrow, if some of
them don't find us to-night," said Mrs. Peyton, with a long sigh and a
regretful glance at Susy. "Perhaps we might travel together for a little
while," she added timidly.

Harry laughed, and Mr. Peyton replied gravely, "I am afraid we wouldn't
travel with them, even for company's sake; and," he added, in a lower
and graver voice, "it's rather odd the search party hasn't come upon
us yet, though I'm keeping Pete and Hank patrolling the trail to meet
them."

"It's heartless--so it is!" said Mrs. Peyton, with sudden indignation.
"It would be all very well if it was only this boy, who can take care of
himself; but to be so careless of a mere baby like this, it's shameful!"

For the first time Clarence tasted the cruelty of discrimination. All
the more keenly that he was beginning to worship, after his boyish
fashion, this sweet-faced, clean, and tender-hearted woman. Perhaps Mr.
Peyton noticed it, for he came quietly to his aid.

"Maybe they knew