hot biscuit, as he had learned to do. His mother would have flung up her hands in horror had she seen him doing this, or could she have known how many such he had devoured since coming to recuperate in these mountain wilds.

The home was very bare and simple, but sweet and clean, and love was in it. To sit there for a while with the childlike young couple, enjoying their home and their baby and the hospitality generously offered according to their ability, warmed David’s heart, and he rode away happier than he came.

With mind absorbed and idle rein, he allowed his horse to stray as he would, while his thoughts and memory played strange tricks, presenting contrasting pictures to his inward vision. Now it was his mother reading by the evening lamp, carelessly scanning a late magazine,