other brothers, and "give her a show." He could do it there if he liked,
and she would keep house for him. If he didn't want to, she must have
enough money to keep her fashionably in San Francisco. But she wanted
excitement, and that she WOULD HAVE! She wanted to go to balls,
theatres, and entertainments, and she intended to! Her voice grew quite
high, and her dark cheek glowed with some new-found emotion.

Astounded as he was, Peter succumbed. It was better that she should
indulge her astounding caprice under his roof than elsewhere. It
would not do for the sister of an Atherly to provoke scandal. He gave
entertainments, picnics, and parties, and "Jinny" Atherly plunged into
these mild festivities with the enthusiasm of a schoolgirl. She not only
could dance with feverish energy all night, but next day could mount
a horse--she was a fearless rider--and lead the most accomplished
horsemen. She was a good shot, she walked with the untiring foot of a
coyote, she threaded the woods with the instinct of a pioneer. Peter
regarded her with a singular mingling of astonishment and fear. Surely
she had not learned this at school! These were not the teachings nor the
sports of the good sisters! He once dared to interrogate her regarding
this change in her habits. "I always FELT like it," she answered
quickly, "but I kept it down. I used sometimes to feel that I couldn't
stand it any longer, but must rush out and do something," she said
passionately; "but," she went on with furtive eyes, and a sudden wild
timidity like that of a fawn, "I was afraid! I was afraid IT WAS LIKE
MOTHER! It seemed to me to be HER blood that was rising in me, and I
kept it down,--I didn't want to be like her,--and I prayed and struggled
against it. Did you," she said, suddenly grasping his hand, "ever feel
like that?"

But Peter never had. His melancholy faith in his father's race had