variableness and uncertainty to which Helen was quite
unaccustomed, and it left the girl laboring under a great strain of
worry.

She strove very hard to, as she termed it, localize her sister's
changes of mood, and in this she was not without a measure of success.
Whenever the doings of the church committee were discussed Kate's mood
dropped to zero, and sometimes below that point. It was obvious that
the decision to demolish the old landmark in the service of the church
was causing her an alarm and anxiety which would far better have
fitted one of the old village wives, eaten up with superstition, than
a woman of Kate's high-spirited courage. Then, too, the work of her
little farm seemed to worry her. Her attention to it in these days
became almost feverish. Whereas, until recently, all her available
time was given to church affairs, now these were almost entirely
neglected in favor of the farm. Kate was almost always to be found in
company of her two hired men, working with a zest that ill suited the
methods of her male helpers.

On one occasion Helen ventured to remark upon it in her inconsequent
fashion, a fashion often used to disguise her real feelings, her real
interest.

Kate had just returned from a long morning out on the wheat land. She
was weary, and dusty, and thirsty. And she had just thirstily drained
a huge glass of barley water.

"For the Lord's sake, Kate!" Helen cried in pretended dismay. "When I
see you drink like that I kind of feel I'm growing fins all over me."

Kate smiled, but without lightness.

"Get right out in this July sun and try to shame your hired men into
doing a man's work, and see how you feel then," she retorted.
"Fins?--why, you'd give right up walking, and grow a full-sized tail,
and an uncomfortable crop of scales."

Helen shook her head.

"I wouldn't work that way. Say, you're always chasing the boys up. Are
they slacking worse than usual? Are they on the 'buck'?"

Kate shot a swift glance into the gray eyes fixed on her so shrewdly.

"No," she said quite soberly. "Only--only work's good for folks,
sometimes. The boys are all right. It just does me good to work.
Besides, I like to know what Pete's doing."

"You mean----?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter what I mean," Kate retorted, with a sudden
impatience. "Where's dinner?"

This was something of her sister's mood more or less all the time, and
Helen found it very trying. But she made every allowance for it, also
the