om the West, but was detained, so
Nancy and Doris again helped Father Noble with his hill people, and Mary
came over to Ridge House and decorated the rooms to surprise them when
they came back from the longest trip of all.

Doris had discarded, largely, her couch. With her inward anxiety about
Joan to be controlled, she was more at ease in action and it was good
for her.

Nancy's devotion was taken for granted, as was her happiness. What more
could Nancy want?

It was Mary who resented this.

"'Tain't fair!" she muttered as she went about her self-imposed tasks,
"'tain't fair." And scowlingly Mary still bided her time.

Early in the new year David Martin returned from the West bearing about
him the impression of battle crowned by victory. He was jovial and
boyishly delighted with Doris's improvement.

"I haven't long to stay," he confided to her, "but I had to see how
things were going here before I settled down in New York. Nancy looks
fine! She's happy, too." This to Nancy, who was fondling the pups by the
fire.

"Well, then, how about Joan?"

Doris, her hands folded in her lap, did not reply.

At this Martin took to striding up and down the long, sunny room. The
thought of Nancy rested him; Joan always irritated him.

"When is she coming back?" he asked suddenly.

"She's got----" Nancy hesitated at the word; "she's got a job. She won't
come home until she's lost that."

Martin turned on Doris a perplexed and awakened face.

"What's this?" His voice had the ring of the primitive male.

"Well, you know Joan is with Sylvia Reed, David. You remember that girl
who painted so beautifully at Dondale? Sylvia has a studio, now, and is
regularly launched. She's doing extremely good work. Nan, show Doctor
Martin that magazine cover that Sylvia did."

David took the magazine indifferently from the obedient Nancy and
dropped it at once.

"Who's looking after them?" he inquired, leaping, in his deadly rigid
way, over much debatable ground.

"They're looking after themselves, David." Doris metaphorically got into
position for a severe bout.

"You don't mean," Martin came close and glowered over Doris, "you cannot
possibly mean that Joan is going in for that loose, smudgy stunt that
some girls are doing down in that part of town known as Every Man's
Land?"

Nancy ran to the window and bent over her loom. She was always
frightened when David Martin looked as if he were going to perform an
operation.

"Cert