Margaret had half risen at her end of the table, and Gardley stood beside her as if to reassure her; but Pop Wallis was not looking at any of them any more. His eyes were on his wife. He passed his hand once more over his eyes and took one step gropingly into the room, a hand reached out in front of him, as if he were not sure but he might run into something on the way, the other hand on his forehead, a dazed look in his face. "Why, Mom--that ain't really--_you_, now, _is_ it?" he said, in a gentle, insinuating voice like one long unaccustomed making a hasty prayer. The tone made a swift change in the old woman. She gripped her bony hands tight and a look of beatific joy came into her wrinkled face. "Yes, it's really _me_, Pop!" she said, with a kind of triumphant ring to her voice. "But--but--you're right _here_, ain't you? You ain't _dead_, an'--an'--gone to--gl-oo-ry, be you? You're right _here_?" "Yes, I'm right _here_, Pop. I ain't dead! Pop--glory's _come to me_!" "Glory?" repeated the man, dazedly. "Glory?" And he gazed around the room and took in the new curtains, the pictures on the wall, the cushions and chairs, and the bright, shining windows. "You don't mean it's _heav'n_, do you, Mom? 'Cause I better go back--_I_ don't belong in heav'n. Why, Mom, it can't be glory, 'cause it's the same old bunk-house outside, anyhow." "Yes, it's the same old bunk-house, and it ain't heaven, but it's _goin_' to be. The glory's come all right. You sit down, Pop; we're goin' to have church, and this is my new bonnet. _She_ brang it. This is the new school-teacher, Miss Earle, and she's goin' to have church. She done it _all_! You sit down and listen." Pop Wallis took a few hesitating steps into the room and dropped into the nearest chair. He looked at Margaret as if she might be an angel holding open the portal to a kingdom in the sky. He looked and wondered and admired, and then he looked back to his glorified old wife again in wonder. Jasper Kemp shut the door, and the company dropped back into their places. Margaret, because of her deep embarrassment, and a kind of inward trembling that had taken possession of her, announced another hymn. It was a solemn little service, quite unique, with a brief, simple prayer and an expository reading of the story of the blind man from the sixth chapter of John. The men sat attentively, their eyes upon her face as she read; but Pop Wallis sat staring at his wife, an awed light upon his scared old face, the wickedness and cunning all faded out, and only fear and wonder written there. In the early dawning of the pink-and-silver morning Margaret went back to her work, Gardley riding by her side, and Bud riding at a discreet distance behind, now and then going off at a tangent after a stray cottontail. It was wonderful what good sense Bud seemed to have on occasion.