Jim
the four picked up the litter.

"Why, where are you going?" asked Juno.

"Never you mind," said Doctor Jim.

Through the little vineyard they went, up a little hill underneath cedars
and blooming rhododendrons, and there on the top was a little cabin built
of logs with the bark still on them, with a porch running around all sides
but one, and supported by the trunks of little trees. The smell of cedar
came from the open door, and all was as fresh and clean as the breath of
the forest from which everything came--a home that had been the girl's
lifelong dream. The Goddess of Happy Valley had her own little temple
at last.

On the open-air sleeping-porch they sat that night alone.

"I'm going to help raise some money for that Mission down there," said
Doctor Jim. "I don't know where any more good is being done, and I don't
know any people who are more worth being helped than--your people."

Happy Valley below was aswarm with fireflies. The murmur of the river
over shallows rose to them. The cries of whippoorwills encircled them
from the hillsides and over the mountain majestically rose the moon.

"And you and I are coming down every summer--to help."

Juno gathered his hand in both her own and held it against her cheek.

"Jim--Doctor Jim--_my_ Jim."

THE BATTLE-PRAYER OF PARSON SMALL

Parson Small rose. From the tail-pocket of his long broadcloth coat
he pulled a red bandanna handkerchief and blew his nose. He put the
big blunt forefinger of his right hand on the text of the open Bible
before him.

"Suffer--" he said. He glanced over his flock--the blacksmith, his
wife, and her child, the old miller and Aunt Betsey, the Mission
teacher and some of her brood, past Pleasant Trouble with his crutch
across his half a lap, and to the heavy-set, middle-aged figure just
slipping to a seat in the rear with a slouched hat in his hand. The
parson's glance grew stern and he closed the Great Book. Jeb Mullins,
the newcomer, was--moonshiner and undesirable citizen in many ways. He
had meant, said the parson, to preach straight from the word of God,
but he would take up the matter in hand, and he glared with doubtful
benevolence at Jeb's moon face, grayish whiskers, and mild blue eyes.
Many turned to follow his glance, and Jeb moved in his seat and his
eyes began to roll, for all knew that the matter in hand was Jeb.

Straightway the parson turned his batteries on the very throne of
King Alcohol and made it