n,
worked in his garden, been friends with the common folk, not from any
high motive, but to keep himself from insanity! He had had to use any
material at hand, and it had brought about certain results that Ledyard
would dissect and toss aside, he would never believe! Still the attempt
to live on, as he had lived, must be undertaken. A kind of desperation
overcame him.

What did it matter? He might just as well go on until he was stopped. He
was no safer, no more comfortable, sitting apart waiting for his summons.
He would, as far as in him lay, ignore the menacing thing that hovered
near, and play the part of a man while he might.

"I'm ready to go with you, Mrs. McAdam," he said, turning for his hat,
"and as we go tell me what you are about to do."

It was no easy telling. The mere statement of fact was so crude that
Farwell could not, by any possibility, comprehend the dramatic scene he
was soon to witness and partake of.

"I'm going to keep my word," Mary McAdam explained. "I'll not be waiting
for the license to be given, or taken away, I'll keep my word."

It was a still, breathless night, with a moon nearly full, and as Mrs.
McAdam, accompanied by Farwell, passed over the Green toward the Lodge,
the idlers and loiterers followed after at a respectful distance. Mary
was the centre of attraction just then, and Farwell always commanded
attention, used as the people were to him.

"Come on! come on!" called Mary without turning her head. "Bring others
and behold the sight of your lives. Behold a woman keeping her word when
the need for the keeping is over!"

A growing excitement was rising in Mary's voice; she was nearing the end
of her endurance and was becoming reckless.

By the time the Lodge was reached a goodly crowd was at the steps leading
up to the bar. Jerry McAlpin was there with Jerry-Jo beside him. Hornby,
just come from the digging of the two graves, stood nearby with the scent
of fresh earth clinging to him.

Suddenly Mary McAdam came out of the house, her arms filled with bottles,
while behind her followed Farwell rolling a cask.

What occurred then was so surprising and bewildering that those who
looked on were never able to clearly describe the scene. Standing with
her load, Mary McAdam spoke fierce, hot words. She showed herself no
mercy, asked for no pity. She had dealt in a business that threatened the
souls of men and boys, made harder the lives of women. She had blinded
herself and mad