Jamie answered brightly, but his voice was slightly unsteady: "Yes, it's the same old world; it's a wilderness, you know, for all of us, only there are so many paths through it, across it, and up and down it--paths and trails and roads that cross and recross; so many that end in swamp and bog; so many that lead nowhither; so many that are lost on the mountain. And so few guideposts--I wish there were more for us all! You may bet your life that man--whether the girl's husband or lover--has had to tread thorns until his feet bled before he could clear his way through. Those five hundred dollars, in yearly deposits, he intends shall be guideposts, and he trusts you to put them up in the wilderness where they will do the most good.--I 'd hate to be that man! Would you mind telling me, Doctor, how she attempted to make way with herself?" "Tried to drown herself from one of the North River piers." "And her child too," said Jamie musingly; "there came near being two graves in _his_ wilderness." He thought a moment in silence. "Make the home on the farm with the money, Doctor Rugvie; use the interest in helping others who have lost their way in the wilderness." "Good advice, Boy, I 'll remember to act on it." The Doctor spoke gratefully, heartily. His glance rested affectionately upon the long figure on the sofa. Was he wondering, as I was, how Jamie at twenty-three could reach certain depths which his particular plummet could never have sounded? I intended to ask him what he thought of Jamie's outlook on life, sometime when we should be alone together. "Mrs. Macleod," he said, "do you think with your son?" She hesitated. It is her peculiarity that a direct question, the answer to which involves a decision, flusters her painfully. "I shall have to think it over, like Mr. Ewart," she replied. "And you, Marcia," he turned to me. Out of my knowledge I answered unhesitatingly: "It's not of the child I 'm thinking; she could n't accept the money knowing for what it is paid. Nor am I thinking about those women who need 'guide-posts', Jamie. I 'm thinking of that other woman who lived in the basement and took in washing and ironing, the one who rescued that other from her misery and cared for her with your help, Doctor Rugvie--should n't she be remembered? She, who is living? If I had that money at my disposal, I would found the farm home and put that woman at the head of it. You may be sure she would know how to put up the guideposts--and in the right places too." I spoke eagerly, almost impulsively. The Doctor looked at me comprehendingly--he knew that I knew that it was of Delia Beaseley he had been speaking--and smiled. "Another idea, Marcia, also worth remembering and acting upon with Jamie's."