Lee brought the doctor's page of notes and read it through, while her mother snorted at intervals: "Hah! dry toast, weak tea, no coffee, no alcohol. Huh! I might as well starve! Eggs--fish--milk! Why didn't he say boiled live lobsters and champagne? I tell you right now, I'm not going to go into that kind of a game. If I die I'm going to die eating what I blame please." The struggle had begun. With desperate courage Lee fought, standing squarely in the rut of her mother's daily habit. "You must not hive up here any longer," she insisted; "you must get out and walk and ride. I can take care of the house--at least, till we can sell it." It was like breaking the pride of an athlete, but little by little she forced upon her mother a realization of her true condition, and at last Lize consented to offer the business for sale. Then she wept (for the first time in years), and the sight moved her daughter much as the sobs of a strong man would have done. She longed for the presence of Ross Cavanagh at this moment, when all her little world seemed tumbling into ruin; and almost in answer to her wordless prayer came a messenger from the little telephone office: "Some one wants to talk to you." She answered this call hurriedly, thinking at first that it must be Mrs. Redfield. The booth was in the little sitting-room of a private cottage, and the mistress of the place, a shrewd little woman with inquisitive eyes, said: "Sounds to me like Ross Cavanagh's voice." Lee was thankful for the booth's privacy, for her cheeks flamed up at this remark; and when she took up the receiver her heart was beating so loud it seemed as if the person at the other end of the wire must hear it. "Who is it, please?" she asked, with breathless intensity. A man's voice came back over the wire so clear, so distinct, so intimate, it seemed as if he were speaking into her ear. "It is I, Ross Cavanagh. I want to ask how your mother is?" "She is terribly disheartened by what the doctor has said, but she is in no immediate danger." He perceived her agitation, and was instantly sympathetic. "Can I be of use--do you need me? If you do, I'll come down." "Where are you?" "I am at the sawmill--the nearest telephone station." "How far away are you?" "About thirty miles." "Oh!" She expressed in this little sound her disappointment, and as it trembled over the wire he spoke quickly: "Please tell me! Do you want me to come down? Never mind the distance--I can ride it in a few hours." She was tempted, but bravely said: "No; I'd like to see you, of course, but the doctor said mother was in no danger. You must not come on our account." He felt the wonder of the moment's intercourse over the wilderness steeps, and said so. "You can't imagine how strangely sweet and civilized your voice sounds to me here in this savage place. It makes me hope that some day you and Mrs. Redfield will come up and visit me in person." "I should like to come."