hinking. Her own words took her back,
back to a dark night--she was peering, aided by a dim light from within,
at a baby lying in the arms of----

Mary drew her breath sharp; her thin, flat bosom heaved and her fingers
clutched her gown.

David Martin had so far classified his perplexity concerning Doris as to
name it "Southern fever."

"Hookworm?" Joan broke in gleefully.

Martin frowned but did not reply.

"Doris," he turned to the couch, "I must go out West." She understood.
Martin never spoke openly about his family affairs. Until he was surer
of that nephew of his he kept him in the background.

"Yes, David." Doris smiled up at him.

"I want you to promise me that you will take more exercise!" Martin
said.

"Why, certainly, David, but I thought you wanted me to--to rest."

"I do--but you are rested. I do not want you to enjoy resting. It's
dangerous."

"Oh! bully for you, Uncle David," Joan broke in, delightedly, "Aunt
Dorrie is just plain flopping and Nan and Mary are abetting her."

For some reason Martin turned to Joan, not Nancy who was standing
patiently by.

"Joan, get your aunt on horseback--lead up to it, of course--and go
slow."

"But--Uncle David----" Nancy drew near. Her kingdom was threatened.

"My dear," Martin always melted to Nancy, "after Joan gets her on
horseback, _you_ ride with her."

And so Doris got off her couch, rather dazedly, as one thinking his legs
have been shot off finds them still attached to him.

She had been actually letting go! She, of all people, and just when
there was so much to do--so long as she had strength to do it!

It was December when Martin started for the West and Joan's restlessness
gained power.

Christmas rather eased the situation, for with it Father Noble appeared.

He startled Doris as Uncle Jed had, by his persistence.

"They cannot be as old as they look," she concluded, and gladly entered
into all the plans for carrying sunshine and joy into the deep places of
the hills.

"Dear me, dear me!" explained Father Noble, whose memory of her was so
blurred that Doris did not venture to refer to it in detail; "I thought
when the Sisters went away this beautiful old house would fall into
disuse. It is a great happiness to feel its welcome once more."

Then the old man raised his hat from his silvered head and, standing so
in the doorway, besought a blessing "on them who waited but to do His
will."

Joan and Nancy rode with him back into t