ing harmful or unbecoming. Why, Parson, old man,
you mustn't be too strait-laced out here. You know it's the way of the
West."

But Davies threw out his hand as though imploring silence, seemed about
to speak again and ask another question, but finally turned without
another word, and leaving Sanders standing dejectedly at the gate,
re-entered his hall and closed the door behind him.

CHAPTER XXIV.

That night Dr. Rooke called twice at No. 12, and went away both times
saying opprobrious things about his fellow-men and women. The chaplain,
who had gone over to see Davies about three o'clock, presently went back
for his wife, and that good-hearted woman remained until late at night.
Mrs. Darling coming over in the early evening to congratulate dear Mira
again on her husband's return and invite them both to dinner on the
morrow, was met by Davies himself at the door, but not invited in. Her
sweet smiles and words of greeting and proffers of hospitality were
checked at sight of his stern, sad face. In brief words he told her Mrs.
Davies was too ill to receive callers or accept invitations, and in
response to her flurried "Is there anything in the world I can do?"
coldly answered that Mrs. Darling had already done--too much.

In her natural and justifiable indignation, Mrs. Darling at once sought
Mrs. Stone and Mrs. Flight. "They had an awful scene, I'm sure," said
she, "for his face was as black as a storm, and I knew how it would be.
Some one's been blabbing and making matters infinitely worse than they
really were. What do you suppose will happen when he and Willett really
meet?"

"They _have_ met," cried Mrs. Flight, forgetful of her determination to
keep at odds with Mrs. Darling in the bliss of imparting exciting
news,--"they _have_ met at Sanders's quarters, and there must have been
something dreadful, because Willett came out, oh, with such a face! and
went right over to the store and drove off to town. Sanders is all
broken up about something. Flighty says he wouldn't tell anybody." And
by "Flighty" the lady referred to her consort.

The awful scene of Mrs. Darling's imagination was really not very
tragic. Almira had shut herself in her room in preparation for the
coming visits of the doctor and Mrs. Darling. Her tea-gown being a most
becoming garment, she was still enveloped in its soft and clinging
folds, and had let her long, lustrous hair fall rippling down her back.
She had once seen a queen of t