ached the subject, but she could neither
keep the color in her cheeks nor her lips steady when she made reply.

"Don't ask me, Elijah. I can't bear it."

"Why?" he asked in surprise.

"Because," she paused for a moment. "We have been here almost four
years, just you, and I and the children. Every spot of it is a part of
you. It would be like death to leave it. While you are away, I shall
look forward to your coming back. If I should go to Ysleta, you wouldn't
be coming back."

"Of course not. I'd be there all the time. You'd have lots of company. I
could run in to lunch and bring my friends." Elijah lifted his head and
squared his shoulders. He caught not the slightest glimpse of Amy's real
feeling. His words and gestures showed that only too plainly even to
her.

Amy smiled wanly.

"I wouldn't have you all to myself there. I would rather have you all to
myself part of the time, than part of you all the time." It was a
tremendous thought for Amy. She almost stood in awe of herself over its
utterance.

"You are a silly goose." Elijah caught her in his arms and swung her to
and fro as if she were a child. "You have me all the time, wherever I
am."

Amy lay in his arms with closed eyes. The color came back to her face.
It was only a dream; a dream of what had been. She knew it was only a
dream and she tried to close her mental eyes to this knowledge. She was
aroused when Elijah set her on her feet.

"I have lots to do at the office now."

Amy's face showed a sudden gleam of inspiration.

"Couldn't I be in the office with you?"

"Of course not, goose. You'd be in the way."

"Is the bookkeeper in the way?" The words were almost gasped.

"Of course not. She'd be in the way if she wasn't there."

"Why?" The word was spoken perforce and with fear.

"Because I couldn't get along without her. She's no end of help to me in
my work."

"Couldn't I help you? I would try hard."

Elijah laughed long and loud. Not brutally, at least he had no intention
of brutality; but the thought of Amy's doing Helen Lonsdale's work
incited his thoughtless mirth. It was inconsiderate rather than
thoughtless, for he had not personified Amy's words. Her white face
brought the truth home. He grew sober.

"Not the way you mean, Amy. You will have to help me in your way, and
Miss Lonsdale in another. Goodbye, dear. Don't scare yourself with
pictures, as I said before."

Amy watched him as on a former occasion; then she had though