rolled up in a blanket, lying on
the floor, over against the wall, his eyes wide open looking at her. She
said she let out a yell . . . it scairt the life out of her . . . and 'Gene
he got right up. She says to him, 'For the Lord's sake, 'Gene, what
_ails_ you?' And what do you suppose he says to her, he says, 'I didn't
know whether you wanted me there or not, Nelly.' What do you think of
that? She says back, 'For goodness' sake, 'Gene Powers, where _would_
you be nights, except in your own bed!' He got back and for all Nelly
knows slept all right the rest of the night. She says she guesses he
must have had some sort of funny dream, and not been really all waked up
yet. But it must ha' gi'n her a turn, for all she ain't one of the
nervous kind."

Marise turned sick with shocked pity. The two women looked at each
other, silently with shadowed eyes of foreboding. Mrs. Powers shook her
head, and turned back into the pantry, shutting the door behind her.
Marise heard her speaking to the children, in the cheerful, bantering,
affectionate, grandmother tone she had always had for them. She was
brave, old Mrs. Powers, she always said she could "stand up to things."
She was the sort of woman who can always be depended on to keep life
going, no matter what happens; who never gives up, who can always go on
taking care of the children.

Marise herself did not feel at all brave. She sat down heavily in a
chair by the window looking out at the man who for his wife's sake was
killing something vital and alive. He had done that before, 'Gene had.
He went at it now with a furious haste which had something dreadful in
it.

Nelly, who had sat down to rest on the pile of brush and poles, seemed a
carved and painted statuette of ivory and gold.

She took off her ruffled pretty hat, and laid it down on the white-birch
poles, so that she could tip her head far back and see the very top of
the tree. Her braids shone molten in the sunshine. Her beautiful face
was impassive, secreting behind a screen all that Marise was sure she
must have been feeling.

'Gene, catching sight of her now, in a side-glance, stopped abruptly in
the middle of a swing, and shouted to her to "get off that brush-pile.
That's jus' where I'm lottin' on layin' the tree."

Somewhat startled, Nelly sprang up and moved around to the other side,
back of him, although she called protestingly, "Gracious, you're not
_near_ through yet!"

'Gene made no answer, returning