d Hawker, with a challenge in his tone.

"Why, that New York girl--Miss What's-her-name," replied the sister,
with an undaunted smile.

"Did you, indeed? Well, perhaps she is."

"Oh, you don't know for sure, I s'pose."

Hawker arose from the table, and, taking his hat, went away.

"Mary!" said the mother, in the sepulchral tone of belated but
conscientious reproof.

"Well, I don't care. He needn't be so grand. I didn't go to tease him. I
don't care."

"Well, you ought to care," said the old man suddenly. "There's no sense
in you wimen folks pestering the boy all the time. Let him alone with
his own business, can't you?"

"Well, ain't we leaving him alone?"

"No, you ain't--'cept when he ain't here. I don't wonder the boy grabs
his hat and skips out when you git to going."

"Well, what did we say to him now? Tell us what we said to him that was
so dreadful."

"Aw, thunder an' lightnin'!" cried the old man with a sudden great
snarl. They seemed to know by this ejaculation that he had emerged in an
instant from that place where man endures, and they ended the
discussion. The old man continued his breakfast.

During his walk that morning Hawker visited a certain cascade, a
certain lake, and some roads, paths, groves, nooks. Later in the day he
made a sketch, choosing an hour when the atmosphere was of a dark blue,
like powder smoke in the shade of trees, and the western sky was burning
in strips of red. He painted with a wild face, like a man who is
killing.

After supper he and his father strolled under the apple boughs in the
orchard and smoked. Once he gestured wearily. "Oh, I guess I'll go back
to New York in a few days."

"Um," replied his father calmly. "All right, William."

Several days later Hawker accosted his father in the barnyard. "I
suppose you think sometimes I don't care so much about you and the folks
and the old place any more; but I do."

"Um," said the old man. "When you goin'?"

"Where?" asked Hawker, flushing.

"Back to New York."

"Why--I hadn't thought much about---- Oh, next week, I guess."

"Well, do as you like, William. You know how glad me an' mother and the
girls are to have you come home with us whenever you can come. You know
that. But you must do as you think best, and if you ought to go back to
New York now, William, why--do as you think best."

"Well, my work----" said Hawker.

From time to time the mother made wondering speech to the sisters. "How
much nicer