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 weakness and sickness had hung on him all afternoon, in spite of Mrs. Goodloe's motherly efforts to alleviate his suffering and lift the cloud from his spirits.

He told her, openly and without reservation, exactly what he had gone through, and the sincerity with which she expressed herself of her belief in his honesty was worth more to him than all the physic and balm that a medicine chest would hold.

To add to this comfort Malvina came to his room and put her hand on his forehead, and said she knew the association men were wrong in the matter, and that she would take his part against the whole range, just as he had walked into the room where the infare supper was going on and taken her part against the outrageous claims of Zebedee Smith.

Hartwell thanked her, and the pain and sickness—for a great deal of it was homesickness and loneliness—began to grow lighter at once, and the beauty to come back to the edges of the world. And Mrs. Goodloe brought him chicken broth, and sat by him while he drank it, and put a wet towel over his eyes, and he fell asleep. It was on her recommendation when he woke after sunset that he went to the light-handed Mr. Noggle and besought his ministrations.

Sympathy and food, though both of them were just the plain, common and wholesome kind with-