ck swung gently under the weight of the
Little Doctor, who pushed her shipper-toe mechanically against a post
support at regular intervals while she read.

On the steps the Kid was crawling laboriously upward, only to descend
again quite as laboriously when he attained the top. One of the boys was
just emerging from the blacksmith shop; from the build of him Andy knew
it must be either Weary or Irish, though it would take a much closer
observation, and some familiarity with the two to identify the man more
exactly. In the corral were a swirl of horses and an overhanging cloud
of dust, with two or three figures discernible in the midst, and away
in the little pasture two other figures were galloping after a fleeing
dozen of horses. While he looked, old Patsy came out of the messhouse,
and went, with flapping flour-sack apron, to the woodpile.

Peaceful it was, and home-like and contentedly prosperous; a little
world tucked away in its hills, with its own little triumphs and
defeats, its own heartaches and rejoicings; a lucky little world,
because its triumphs had been satisfying, its defeats small, its
heartaches brief, and its rejoicings untainted with harassment or guilt.
Yet Andy stared down upon it with a frown; and, when he twitched the
reins and began the descent, he sighed impatiently.

Past the stable he rode with scarcely a glance toward Weary, who shouted
a casual "Hello" at him from the corral; through the big gate and up the
trail to the White House, and straight to the porch, where the Little
Doctor flipped a leaf of her magazine and glanced at him with a smile,
and the Kid turned his plump body upon the middle step and wrinkled his
nose in a smile of recognition, while he threw out an arm in welcome,
and made a wobbling effort to get upon his feet.

Andy smiled at the Kid, but his smile did not reach his eyes, and faded
almost immediately. He glanced at the Little Doctor, sent his horse past
the steps and the Kid, and close to the railing, so that he could lean
and toss the mail into the Little Doctor's lap. There was a yellow
envelope among the letters, and her fingers singled it out curiously.
Andy folded his hands upon the saddle-horn and watched her frankly.

"Must be from J. G.," guessed the Little Doctor, inserting a slim finger
under the badly sealed flap. "I've been wondering if he wasn't going
to send some word--he's been gone a week--Baby! He's right between
your horse's legs, Andy! Oh-h--baby