. Blanchard.

"She'll weather it," he said. "Keep a gude heart. The gal from the
hospital ban't coming 'cause theer 's danger, but 'cause she 'm smart
an' vitty 'bout a sick room, an' cheerful as a canary an' knaws her
business. Quick of hand an' light of foot for sartin. Mother'll be all
right; I feel it deep in me she will."

Presently conversation passed to Will himself, and Phoebe expressed a
hope this sad event would turn him from his determination for some time
at least.

"What determination?" he asked. "What be talkin' about?"

"The letter you left for faither, and the thing you started to do," she
answered.

"'S truth! So I did; an' if the sight o' the smoke an' then hearin' o'
mother's trouble didn't blaw the whole business out of my brain!"

He stood amazed at his own complete forgetfulness.

"Queer, to be sure! But coourse theer weern't room in my mind for
anything but mother arter I seed her stricken down."

During the evening, after final reports from Mrs. Blanchard's sick-room
spoke of soothing sleep, Miller Lyddon sent Billy upon an errand, and
discussed Will's position.

"Jan Grimbal 's waited so long," he said, "that maybe he'll wait longer
still an' end by doin' nothin' at all."

"Not him! You judge the man by yourself," declared Will. "But he 's made
of very different metal. I lay he's bidin' till the edge of this be
sharp and sure to cut deepest. So like 's not, when he hears tell mother
's took bad he'll choose that instant moment to have me marched away."

There was a moment's silence, then Blanchard burst out into a fury bred
of sudden thought, and struck the table heavily with his fist.

"God blast it! I be allus waitin' now for some wan's vengeance! I caan't
stand this life no more. I caan't an' I won't--'t is enough to soften
any man's wits."

"Quiet! quiet, caan't 'e?" said the miller, as though he told a dog to
lie down. "Theer now! You've been an' gived me palpitations with your
noise. Banging tables won't mend it, nor bad words neither. This thing
hasn't come by chance. You 'm ripening in mind an' larnin' every day.
You mark my word; theer 's a mort o' matters to pick out of this new
trouble. An' fust, patience."

"Patience! If a patient, long-suffering man walks this airth, I be him,
I should reckon. I caan't wait the gude pleasure of that dog, not even
for you, Miller."

"'T is discipline, an' sent for the strengthening of your fibre.
Providence barred the road to-day,