herself, the conviction that his father was out there, doing the
morning task which had been his for so many years, was strong upon
her.

When at length Jerome and Elmira came and told her breakfast was
ready, and assisted her to rise and dress, she was as unquestioningly
docile as if the relationship between them were reversed. When she
was seated in her chair she even forbore, as was her wont, to start
immediately with sharp sidewise jerks of her rocker, but waited until
her children pushed and drew her out into the next room, up to the
breakfast-table. There were, moreover, no sharp commands and chidings
as to the household tasks that morning. Jerome and Elmira did as they
would, and their mother sat quietly and ate her breakfast.

Elmira kept staring at her mother, and then glancing uneasily at
Jerome. Her pretty face was quite pale that morning, and her eyes
looked big. She moved hesitatingly, or with sharp little runs of
decision. She went often to the window and stared down the
road--still looking for her father; for hope dies hard in youth, and
she had words of triumph at the sight of him all ready upon her
tongue. Her mother's strange demeanor frightened her, and made her
almost angry. She was too young to grasp any but the more familiar
phases of grief, and revelations of character were to her
revolutions.

She beckoned her brother out of the room the first chance she got,
and questioned him.

"What ails mother?" she whispered, out in the woodshed, holding to
the edge of his jacket and looking at him with piteous, scared eyes.