boy've come."

Another instant and the door was opened on the beautiful, white,
sparkling world, and the low sleigh, with its great warm buffalo robes,
in which the small figures of a woman and a child were almost lost,
stopped at the door. Two whimsical but tired eyes looked over a rim of
fur at the old woman in the doorway, then Cassy's voice rang out.

"Hello, that's Aunt Kate, I know! Well, here we are, and here's my boy.
Jump, George!"

A moment later, and the gaunt old woman folded both mother and son in
her arms and drew them into the room. The door was shut, and they all
faced each other.

The old man and Black Andy did not move, but stood staring at the trim
figure in black, with the plain face, large mouth, and tousled red hair,
and the dreamy-eyed, handsome little boy beside her.

Black Andy stood behind the stove, looking over at the new-comers with
quizzical, almost furtive eyes, and his father remained for a moment
with mouth open, gazing at his dead son's wife and child, as though not
quite comprehending the scene. The sight of the boy had brought back,
in some strange, embarrassing way, a vision of thirty years before, when
George was a little boy in buckskin pants and jacket, and was beginning
to ride the prairie with him. This boy was like George, yet not like
him. The face was George's, the sensuous, luxurious mouth; but the eyes
were not those of a Baragar, nor yet those of Aunt Kate's family; and
they were not wholly like the mother's. They were full and brimming,
while hers were small and whimsical; yet they had her quick, humourous
flashes and her quaintness.

"Have I changed so much? Have you forgotten me?" Cassy asked, looking
the old man in the eyes. "You look as strong as a bull." She held out
her hand to him and laughed.

"Hope I see you well," said Abel Baragar mechanically, as he took the
hand and shook it awkwardly.

"Oh, I'm all right," answered the nonchalant little woman, undoing her
jacket. "Shake hands with your grandfather, George. That's right--don't
talk too much," she added, with a half-nervous little laugh, as the old
man, with a kind of fixed smile, and the child shook hands in silence.

Presently she saw Black Andy behind the stove. "Well, Andy, have you
been here ever since?" she asked, and, as he came forward, she suddenly
caught him by both arms, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him. "Last time I
saw you, you were behind the stove at Lumley's. Nothing's ever too warm