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will have your crutches ready in a day or two. Then you can take some exercise."

"What have you done with those hideous black garments, Daphne?"

"Do you like these gray ones better?"

"Yes, I like the gray ones better."

"So does this abounding dust. My black clothes were getting rusty, so I made a contribution of them to the water nymphs of the Platte."

"Why did you wear those weeds?"

"They served my purpose, sir."

"You almost provoke me into profanity, Mrs. McAlpin; you are so mysteriously non-committal."

"Glad to hear it. Men don't feel like swearing when death is staring them in the face."

"Your supper is getting cold, and Mrs. Benson says you must hurry up." The intruder, as usual, was Jean.

"I will see you later, Mr. Burns," said Mrs. McAlpin, and she ran away, laughing.

"You seem very happy this evening, mamma," she said, as with cup and plate in hand she seated herself on a wagon-tongue.

Mrs. Benson blushed. "Why don't you eat?" she asked, evading her daughter's question.

"I hardly know. But I am out of sorts. Just think of men coming out on a journey like this, with ailing wives and unborn children, with no adequate preparation for their needs! I left one woman, less than two hours ago, with newly born twins, and a yearling squalling like mad at the foot of her bed. The mother was as docile as a kitten, and a hundred times more helpless."

"Where was the father?"

"Oh, he was shambling around, helpless and in the way. He was kindness personified; but he was as useless as a monkey. When woman's true history shall have been written, her part in the upbuilding of this nation will astound the world. I've seen heroines on this jour