never complained and with quiet courage she went her westering way
thankfully.

"Levi is wonderfully softened," she often thought; "it doesn't hurt him
so much these days to praise instead of blame, and naturally folks
respond. It's mostly on account of Sandy. Levi does so mortally hate
to lose that when he wins out he thaws out!"

The broad acres of Bretherton were rich and full of harvest as the old
brother and sister waited that afternoon. At last Levi snapped his
watch cover and said sharply:

"That three-fifty train is always late! Do you suppose--she--Mrs.
Treadwell, will expect to be put up for the night?"

"I hope not," Matilda replied, knitting away gently with closed eyes.
"I'm not one who takes pleasure in folks' disappointments and I'm glad
to say the village inn is comfortable and not over crowded. I _can_,
if it is necessary, tell Mary Jane to put an extra plate on for the
evening meal."

"Wait and see how things turn out," cautiously advised Levi.

"What time is it now, brother?"

"Two-forty-five! But I put no faith in that train."

"Was that a letter from Sandy you got in the noon mail?"

"It was, Matilda. I think it would be safe to have an extra plate put
on for him."

Matilda opened her eyes.

"Levi," she said; "I'm not one to nose about much, but what is the
meaning of all this?"

Levi set his lips grimly.

"I never knew that Treadwell woman to break in after a long silence but
for two things," he replied; "either she wants something or she wants
to get rid of something. Three years back she asked for help when she
found that precious nephew of hers----"

"And ours, Levi," Matilda put in; "we can't disown him. Blood is blood
even if it clots."

"Well, our nephew, then! When she found young Lansing Treadwell eating
up her income, she begged for some scraps of what she pleased to term
'his mother's rights!'"

"And you gave them to her, Levi!"

"I couldn't let Caroline's boy die in a hole even if Hertford's son put
him there!"

"You speak real comically sometimes, Levi. There are times when I
could think Sandy was talking through your voice!"

"Well! well! every man has a streak of the dramatic in him!" Markham's
lips relaxed, "and I must say that to see Sandy Morley and Lans
Treadwell good friends without either sensing the true relations of
birth and tradition, tickles me through and through. I guess that
Treadwell woman would have done her prettiest if she had c