in the Temple
questioning Wisdom, and with awe beheld that he was no longer her little
child, the paralyzing question, "What have I to do with thee?" has set
maternity back upon itself over and over again, in order that the
suddenly arrived Man might be upon "his Father's business."

"Going to--make--something of yourself?"

Peggy's trembling hands groped feebly, and then, thank heaven! Billy
drew near and glorified this new, but lonely place of his own creation.

"You've done your best, mother; I see it now, but I was--I ain't going
to say what I was--but I'm going to be something different; and you're
going to help me now, like you always have."

A pain gripped Peggy's throat, and the room whirled about. Then the mist
cleared from the dim eyes and Hope lighted them.

"Son," she said solemnly, "I am. I don't quite see how, but the way will
be opened. Go in, now, and rest; you look clean done for."

It was humiliating, but Billy had to feel his way to the door of the
bedchamber beyond.

Alone with her daughter, Peggy's Vision on the Mount faded.

"Billy's aged terrible," she said to Maggie, who was still sulking
because of the boxed ear.

"I know what's the matter with him." Maggie's lynx-eyes glittered. "I
found some po'try he writ on the back of the wood-shed door. He thought
nobody but him ever went there. It's grand po'try."

Maggie struck an attitude, and drawled:

My heart feels like a chunk of rock
When I am far from you,
But when you trip acrost my vision
My heart melts same as du.

"I learned that in one morning!" Maggie proudly declared. "I don't care
if he is my brother, that's grand."

Peggy dropped helplessly in her chair. She had never looked for glory in
her modest dream. That Billy should escape the degradation of the Black
Cat, and that Maggie might have a lighter cross than her own to carry,
had been the most she had plead for when she had had time to pray; and
now--why God had crowned her lot by children who were undoubtedly
geniuses! Maggie, too, had a circle of light about her head. And it had
all dawned upon Peggy in a flash of an eye.

"You ain't sick to your stomach, are you, mother?"

Peggy repudiated this with scorn.

"Maggie," she said softly, "I want that you should write that out real
plain for me, in print. I'm going to take it up to the bungalow."

"Billy'll cuss us." Maggie turned coward.

"Oh! I ain't going to let Mr. Drew think Billy done it." Peg