. You ought to have asked it for your own sake, Jeff, and
then I might have been fool enough to believe you. But now--"

She started swiftly down the hill again, and this time he did not try to
follow her.

L.

Mrs. Durgin's speech never regained the measure of clearness it had
before; no one but Cynthia could understand her, and often she could not.
The doctor from Lovewell surmised that she had sustained another stroke,
lighter, more obscure than the first, and it was that which had rendered
her almost inarticulate. The paralysis might have also affected her
brain, and silenced her thoughts as well as her words. Either she
believed that the reconciliation between Jeff and Cynthia had taken
place, or else she could no longer care. She did not question them again,
but peacefully weakened more and more. Near the end of September she had
a third stroke, and from this she died.

The day after the funeral Jeff had a talk with Whitwell, and opened his
mind to him.

"I'm going over to the other side, and I shan't be back before spring, or
about time to start the season here. What I want to know is whether, if
I'm out of the house, and not likely to come back, you'll stay here and
look after the place through the winter. It hasn't been a good season,
but I guess I can afford to make it worth your while if you look at it as
a matter of business."

Whitwell leaned forward and took a straw into his mouth from the golden
wall of oat sheaves in the barn where they were talking. A soft rustling
in the mow overhead marked the remote presence of Jombateeste, who was
getting forward the hay for the horses, pushing it toward the holes where
it should fall into their racks.

"I should want to think about it," said Whitwell. "I do' know as Cynthy'd
care much about stayin'--or Frank."

"How long do you want to think about it?" Jeff demanded, ignoring the
possible wishes of Cynthia and Frank.

"I guess I could let you know by night."

"All right," said Jeff.

He was turning away, when Whitwell remarked:

"I don't know as I should want to stay without I could have somebody I
could depend on, with me, to look after the hosses. Frank wouldn't want
to."

"Who'd you like?"

"Well--Jombateeste."

"Ask him."

Whitwell called to the Canuck, and he came forward to the edge of the
mow, and stood, fork in hand, looking down.

"Want to stay here this winter and look after the horses, Jombateeste?"
Whitwell asked.

"Nosse