HAPTER VIII

The loose planks on Joel's wagon rattled over the rain-washed and
little-used road running from the main highway to the farm he was
renting. The house was a log cabin of only three rooms, situated on a
bleak, treeless hillside. Adjoining it was a diminutive corn-crib made
of pine poles with the bark still on them, and a lean-to shed which was
roofed with long shingles sawn and split from red oak.

As he drove his clattering wagon up the slope his two children, little
Joel and Tilly, ran out to meet him. The boy held his sister's hand to
keep her from falling, and was gleefully shouting to his father to stop
and take them into the wagon. Eperson checked his horse and got down and
made places for them on his coat.

"Where's your mother?" he inquired, his dull eyes on the cabin.

"In the house," answered little Joel. "Supper is nearly ready."

"Hold your sister," Eperson ordered, as he started the horse and walked
along by the wagon; "she might fall."

Tilly came to the front door and stood watching them as they drew
nearer. The sun was going down, and its last slanting rays made a living
picture of her in the crude frame of logs. She looked older than the
average woman of her age, and yet there was a rounded mellowness to her
features, a suave, spiritual radiance from her skin, eyes, and hair,
which always caught and held the attention of an observer. The same
quality seemed to pervade her voice. It had always been musical; it was
even more so now. Her husband saw that she was all aglow and smiling as
she stepped down to the wagon and held out her arms for the little girl.

"Not a long ride, was it, pet?" she said, as the child put its arms
around her neck and kissed her cheek.

Taking up the parcel, Joel handed it to his wife. "Mrs. Cavanaugh sent
it," he explained. "It is the waists."

"Mrs. Cavanaugh?" Tilly said, in groping surprise. "Where did you see
her?"

"I sold Cavanaugh the wood." Joel felt the heat flow into his cheeks.
"He ordered it a week ago."

"Was he--was he at home?" Tilly held the child's face to hers, and Joel
noted a tense ripple of expectation in her voice.

"Yes, he was there." Joel lowered his head to take up the reins he had
dropped, preparatory to driving around to the wagon-shed. From the
corner of his eyes he saw that Tilly stood rigid at his side, and he
thought he knew why she lingered thus. He was starting his horse, when
she said, suddenly:

"Well, come right