e awkwardly out into the yard. One of them was
fourteen years old and the other sixteen.

The mother beckoned and they came to her with embarrassed step. Her face
lighted with pride in their stalwart figures and well-shaped, regular
features.

"Here's my oldest boy, William, Colonel Lee."

The Colonel took the outstretched hand with cordial grasp.

"I'm glad to know you, young man."

"And glad to see you, sir," he stammered, blushing.

"My next boy Drury, sir. He ain't but fourteen but he's a grown man."

Drury flushed red but failed to make a sound.

When they had moved away and leaned against the fence watching the scene
out of the corner of an eye, the mother turned to the Colonel and asked:

"Do you blame me if I'm proud of my boys, Colonel?"

"I do not, Madame."

"The Lord made me a mother. All I know is to raise fine children and
love 'em. My little gals is putty as dolls."

John suddenly appeared beside her and pulled her skirt.

"What's the matter?" she whispered.

"Pa's waked up. I told him Colonel Lee's here and he's washed his face
and walks straight. Shall I fetch him out, too?"

"Yes, run tell him to come quick."

The boy darted back into the house.

"Johnnie's father wants to see you, Colonel Lee," the woman apologized.

"I'll be glad to talk to him, Madame."

"He'll be all right now. Your comin' to see us'll sober him. He'll be
awful proud of the honor, sir."

Doyle emerged from the house and walked quickly toward the Colonel.
His head was high. He smiled a welcome to his guest and his step was
straight, light and springing, as if he were not quite sure he could
rest his full weight on one foot and tried to get them both down at the
same time.

Lee's face was a mask of quiet dignity. The tragedy in the woman's heart
made the more pathetic the comedy of the half-drunken husband. Besides,
he was philosopher enough to know that more than half the drunkenness of
the world was the pitiful effort to smother a heartache.

The man's smile was a peculiarly winning one. His face was covered with
a full growth of blond beard cut moderately long. He never shaved. His
wife trimmed his beard in the manner most becoming to the shape of his
head, the poise of his neck and evenly formed shoulders. He wore his
hair full long and it curled about his neck in a deep blond wave. He
might have posed for the model of Hoffman's famous picture of Christ.
His eyes, a clear blue, were the finest feature of