of red and gold. There is Tip's Valley of Peace. John Shadrack's
widow may not be a celestial being, but that is my sunset country. In
journeying to it, I shall leave myself behind; in the joy of the road,
in the changing landscape and skyscape, in the swing of the buggy and
the rattle of the wheels, I shall forget myself and Mary and Tim for a
time, and when I come back it will be with wound unhealed, but the
throbbing pain will have passed, and I can face them with eyes clear
and speech unfaltering.

"I'll go with you to Happy Valley, Tip," I said, rising and turning to
the door. "You hitch the gray colt in the buggy and----"

"We are goin' to ride," cried Tip. He had always made his flights
afoot before that, and the prospect of an easy journey caused him to
smile.

"Do you think I'll walk?" I growled. "Get the gray colt and I'll give
you a lift over the mountain, but I'll bring you back on Monday, too."
Tip shook his head sullenly at this threat. "While you hitch, I'll
drop a line to Perry Thomas to take the school. Now hurry."

Tip shuffled away to the barn, and I went into the house, and, after
making a hasty breakfast and getting together a few clothes, sat down
at the table, where Tim had rested his drowsy head all night. I wrote
two notes. One was to Perry and was very brief. The other was brief,
but it was to Mary. When I took up the pen it was to tell her all I
knew and felt. When at last I sealed the envelope it was on a single
sheet of paper, bearing a few formal words, while the scuttle by the
fireplace held all my fine sentiments in the torn slips of paper I had
tossed there. I told Mary that I knew that she did not care for me and