appreciation. Since she had come again to his house--she had lived with
him once before for two years when his wife was slowly dying--it had been
a different place. Housekeeping had cost less than before, yet the
cooking was better, the place was beautifully clean, and discipline
without rigidity reigned everywhere. One by one the old woman's boys
and girls had died--four of them--and she was now alone, with not
a single grandchild left to cheer her; and the life out here with Abel
Baragar had been unrelieved by much that was heartening to a woman; for
Black Andy, Abel's son, was not an inspiring figure, though even his
moroseness gave way under her influence. So it was that when Cassy's
letter came, her breast seemed to grow warmer, and swell with longing to
see the wife of her nephew, who had such a bad reputation in Abel's eyes,
and to see George's little boy, who was coming too. After all, whatever
Cassy was, she was the mother of Abel's son's son; and Aunt Kate was too
old and wise to be frightened by tales told of Cassy or any one else.
So, having had her own way so far regarding Cassy's coming, she looked
Abel calmly in the eyes, over the gold-rimmed spectacles which were her
dearest possession--almost the only thing of value she had. She was not
afraid of Abel's anger, and he knew it; but his eldest son, Black Andy,
was present, and he must make a show of being master of the situation.

"Aunt Kate," he said, "I didn't make a fuss about you sending the horses
and sleigh for her, because women do fool things sometimes. I suppose
curiosity got the best of you. Anyhow, mebbe it's right Cassy should
find out, once for all, how things stand, and that they haven't altered
since she took George away, and ruined his life, and sent him to his
grave. That's why I didn't order Mick back when I saw him going out with
the team."

"Cassy Mavor," interjected a third voice from a corner behind the great