replied Mrs. Larkins. "I know some will, but there are others who are
easily led, and Tom Fletcher's got a sharp tongue."

"Why wouldn't they stan' by 'im, Mrs. Larkins? Wot hev they agin 'im? Tell
me that."

Mrs. Larkins did not answer for a while, but sat gazing out of the window
as if she did not hear the remark.

"I'm thinking of the parson's son, Philip," Mrs. Larkins at length
replied. "You know about him, of course?"

"Sartin' I do. I've knowed Phillie sense he was a baby, an' held 'im in me
arms, too. He was a sweet lamb, that's wot he was. I understan' he's a
minin' ingineer out in British Columbia, an' doin' fine from the last
account I heerd."

"That was some time ago, Mrs. Stickles, was it not?"

"I believe it was last summer."

"Well, it seems that Philip's in trouble."

"Lan' sake, ye don't tell me!" and Mrs. Stickles dropped her knitting and
held up her hands in horror. "I was afeered of it, Mrs. Larkins. It's no
place fer man or beast out thar. Hev the Injins hurt 'im, or the bears
clawed 'im? I understan' they're thick as flies in summer."

"Oh, no, not that," replied Mrs. Larkins. "You see over a year ago Philip
invested in some mining property out there, and the prospects looked so