oclaiming his aspirations and awaking the ribald jests of
his particular set.

Mary Terhune, now partner of Mrs. McAdam, took note of Jerry-Jo's
appearance, and, on a certain afternoon in midwinter, when she, Long
Jean, and Mary McAdam sat by the range in the White Fish kitchen, fanned
a lively bit of gossip into flame.

"Trade's a bit poor these days, eh, Jean?"

Jean grunted over her cup of green tea.

"Not so many children born as once was, eh? What you make of it,
Jean--the woman getting heady or--which?"

Mary McAdam broke in.

"What with poverty and the terrors of losing them, there's enough born to
my thinking. Time was when the young 'uns happened; they're thought more
on, these days. Women _should_ have a say. If there's one thing a man
should keep his tongue off it's this matter of families!"

To this outrageous sentiment the listeners replied merely by two audible
gulps of tea, and then Mary Terhune found grace to remark:

"You certainly do talk most wonderful things, Mary McAdam. You be an
ornament to your sex, but only such women as you can grip them audacious
ideas. Let them be sowed broadcast and----"

"Where would me, and such as me, be?" Long Jean muttered, defending her
profession.

Mrs. Terhune tactfully turned the conversation:

"Have you noticed the change in Jerry-Jo McAlpin?" she asked with a
mysterious shake of her head.

"Any change for the better would be welcome," Mrs. McAdam retorted. "Have
another cup, Jean? Strong or weak?"

"Strong. I says often, says I, that unless tea curls your tongue you
might just as well take water. When I'm on duty I keep a pot on the back
of the stove week in and week out; it do brace me powerful."

Mrs. McAdam poured the tea into the outstretched cup and proceeded to
discuss Jerry-Jo.

"Why doesn't the scamp go to the States and find himself instead of
worrying old Jerry's very life out of him--the vampire!"

"He may have it in his mind," soothed Mary Terhune, "but the lad's deep
and far seeing like his Injun mother--beg pardon, Jean, the term's a
compliment, God save me!"

"You've saved your face, Mrs. Terhune. Go on!"

Jean had begun to resent, but the explanation mollified her.

"More tea," she said quietly, "and you might stir the dregs a mite, Mrs.
McAdam; it's plain sinful to let the strength go to waste."

"If I was Theodora Glenn," Mary Terhune went on, monotonously stirring
the cold liquid in her cup, "I'd have my eye on that girl