er still upstanding, strong,
full of work, and fuller of life's knowledge. It was she who had sent
the horses and sleigh for "Gassy," when the old man, having read the
letter that Cassy had written him, said that she could "freeze at the
station" for all of him. Aunt Kate had said nothing then, but, when the
time came, by her orders the sleigh and horses were at the station; and
the old man had made no direct protest, for she was the one person he
had never dominated nor bullied. If she had only talked, he would have
worn her down, for he was fond of talking, and it was said by those
who were cynical and incredulous about him that he had gone to
prayer-meetings, had been a local preacher, only to hear his own voice.
Probably if there had been any politics in the West in his day, he would
have been a politician, though it would have been too costly for his
taste, and religion was very cheap; it enabled him to refuse to join in
many forms of expenditure, on the ground that he "did not hold by such
things."

In Aunt Kate, the sister of his wife, dead so many years ago, he had
found a spirit stronger than his own. He valued her; he had said more
than once, to those who he thought would never repeat it to her, that
she was a "great woman"; but self-interest was the mainspring of his
appreciation. Since she had come again to his house--she had lived with
him once before for two years when his wife was slowly dying--it had
been a different place. Housekeeping had cost less than before, yet
the cooking was better, the place was beautifully clean, and discipline
without rigidity reigned everywhere. One by one the old woman's boys and
girls had died--four of them--and she was now alone, with not a single
grandchild left to cheer her; and the life out here with Abel Baragar
had been unrelieved by much that was heartening to a woman; for
Black Andy, Abel's son, was not an inspiring figure, though even his
moroseness gave way under her influence. So it was that when Cassy's
letter came, her breast seemed to grow warmer, and swell with longing
to see the wife of her nephew, who had such a bad reputation in Abel's
eyes, and to see George's little boy, who was coming too. After all,
whatever Cassy was, she was the mother of Abel's son's son; and Aunt
Kate was too old and wise to be frightened by tales told of Cassy or any
one else. So, having had her own way so far regarding Cassy's coming,
she looked Abel calmly in the eyes, over the