nd Ralph bit his lip.

"Mother lonely!" he said. "She didn't tell me that."

"Roger is wild to stay," went on Madge, looking away--"but I--oh--I fear
it is only their wonderful kindness. Still there's the Doctor's
rheumatism--and he does need some one to keep his books."

"Rheumatism!" said Ralph sharply.

"Yes," nodded Madge in surprise--"didn't you know. It's been pretty bad
this winter. He's been thinking some of breaking in young Doctor Price
to take part of his practise now and perhaps all of it later."

"Price!" broke out Ralph indignantly. "Oh--that's absurd! Price couldn't
possibly swing Dad's work. He's not clever enough."

"He's the only one there is," said Madge and Ralph fell silent.

All about them lay a glittering moonlit country of peaceful, firelit
homes and snowy hills--of long quiet roads and shadowy trees and
presently Ralph spoke again.

"You like all this," he said abruptly, "the quiet--the country--and all
of it?"

Sister Madge's black eyes glowed.

"After all," she said, "is it not the only way to live? This scent of
the pine, the long white road, the wild-fire of the winter sunset and
the wind and the hills--are they not God-made messages of mystery to
man? Life among man-made things--like your cities--seems somehow to
exaggerate the importance of man the maker. Life among the God-made
hills dwarfs that artificial sense of egotism. It teaches you to marvel
at the mystery of Creation. Yesterday when the Doctor and I were
gathering the Christmas boughs, the holly glade in the forest seemed
like some ancient mystic Christmas temple of the Druids where one might
tell his rosary in crimson holly beads and forget the world!"

Well--perhaps there was something fine and sweet and holy in the country
something--a tranquil simplicity--a hearty ruggedness--that city
dwellers forfeited in their head-long rush for man-made pleasure. After
all, perhaps the most enduring happiness lay in the heart of these quiet
hills.

"My chief is very keen on country life," said Ralph suddenly. "He
preaches a lot. Development of home-spirit and old-fashioned household
gods--that sort of thing! He's a queerish sort of chap--my chief--and
a bit too--er--candid at times. He was dad's old classmate, you know."
And Ralph fell silent again, frowning.

So Price was to take his father's practise! How it must gall the old
Doctor! And mother was lonely, eh?--and Dad's rheumatism getting the
best of him--Why Great Guns!