"I must go at once." Joe rose from the bench as he spoke and untied
his leather apron. "Jean may need me now."

"Would it not be better for your wife to go?" Douglas asked. "A woman
can generally do more in a sick room than a man."

Joe shook his head as he carefully folded the apron and laid it on the
bench.

"No, she couldn't very well go. She hasn't been that far in a long
time. It's her foot, you see. It's been troubling her for years.
Jean'll have to come home, and then she can look after her. Just wait,
I'll be with you in a minute."

As the two walked along the road there was little said for a time. Joe
seemed to be lost in thought, and occasionally he gave a deep sigh.

"I am thinking," he at length remarked, "that this sickness will be for
Jean's good. It may be that the Lord has a hand in it, and He will
lead her home through the valley of trouble. He did it in olden days,
and I believe He does the same now."

"Have you any idea what is the matter with your daughter?" Douglas
enquired. "What do you suppose has caused such a great change in her
from what she was before she left home?"

"I have never heard," Joe slowly replied. "Jean would not tell me."

"But there must have been something, Mr. Benton. It is not natural for
a girl who was brought up so carefully to change in such a short time."

Douglas knew the nature of Jean's illness, and he was anxious that
Joe's mind might be somewhat prepared for the shock. He felt that he
could do no more than give a hint.

"Jean has been working too hard," the old man replied. "She was always
a great worker, and I think she is run down and her mind is somewhat
affected. She will be all right as soon as she gets over this
sickness."

"But what about the letter you received from the city?" Douglas
persisted. "Didn't it show that there must have been something wrong
there? She was sent home for repairs, was she not?"

"I have thought it all over, sir, night and day, and we have talked
about it a great deal. Jean has done nothing wrong, mark my word. I
thought at first that perhaps she had, but I know better now. Why,
it's not in that child to do anything wrong. She's always been as
innocent as a baby. She was led astray for a time, that's all."

Douglas had not the heart to say anything more.

He left Joe when they came to the corn patch, and picked up his hoe.
He stood and watched the old man ambling along the road, and a feeling
o