old man, like a child with a new toy, was pleased at his daughter's
arrival, and followed her about the house with unfailing persistence.

"But, Mary, he won't hurt you. Why do you run?" remonstrated Jane.

Mary shuddered and covered her face with her hands.

"Jane, Jane, how can you take it so calmly!" she moaned. "How can you
bear it?"

There was a moment's pause. A curious expression had come to Jane's
face.

"Some one--has to," she said at last, quietly.

Jane went down to the village the next afternoon, leaving her sister in
charge at home. When she returned, an hour later, Mary met her at the
gate, crying and wringing her hands.

"Jane, Jane, I thought you would never come! I can't do a thing with
him. He insists that he isn't at home, and that he wants to go there. I
told him, over and over again, that he was at home already, but
it didn't do a bit of good. I've had a perfectly awful time."

"Yes, I know. Where is he?"

"In the kitchen. I--I tied him. He just would go, and I couldn't hold
him."

"Oh, Mary!" And Jane fairly flew up the walk to the kitchen door.