"How provoking men can be," thought Dian. Left with Dian, Aunt Clara stood in the center of the floor, her dark eyes fixed in an absent-minded stare, so common to her when she was trying to puzzle out some mental problem that eluded her. Where had she seen her visitor? Dian hurried away to her home across the way, ignorant both of Aunt Clara's problem or its possible solution. As soon as the supper was despatched, Aunt Clara followed her two guests out of the front door, and said softly to John, "Come back after your interview with the President, John; I have something to tell you." John nodded assent, and he and the traveler melted away into the freezing gloom of the winter's darkness. But John did not return with his visitor till after midnight, and then, finding the front door on the latch, as was usual in that safe and honest pioneer town, he guided his guest by the light of the fire into the front chamber, now somewhat warmed by the open door from the sitting room, and, lighting the tallow candle left on the light-stand by the bedside for his guest, he softly made all as comfortable as he could and then left the traveler to seek a much-needed repose. Who was the traveler and what was his business with President Young? This was the thought that flashed and wandered in and out of the sleepless brain of Aunt Clara, hour after hour, in that still and cold night. She knew much of her people's inner, unwritten history, for hers was the silent tongue and quick sympathy which drew all men, as well as women, to her tender heart and warm hearthstone for help and counsel. She had been the trusted friend of the great Prophet Joseph Smith, and to him she had given more than a human devotion; she had accorded him his place beside the greatest martyrs in Biblical history. She was likewise the confidential friend of his successor, Brigham Young; to Aunt Clara the great Pioneer often looked when he had a delicate task which needed the quickness and subtlety of a woman's help. And now she could not sleep till she had puzzled out her puzzle, and had answered the challenge of her unerring memory. Daylight had brought the answer. Aunt Clara was up early, and, by the light of her candle, was kneading the loaves for the day's baking. To her soon came Ellen, intent on finishing her spinning and reeling before daylight should bring breakfast and interruption. "Do you suppose that this is another of those splendid United States soldiers?" asked Ellen, her feet stepping off the regular rhythm of the whizzing yarn, as it whirled and spun from the steel point into fine threads under the flying fingers of the industrious girl. Her wheel paused in its onward circling flight to catch Aunt Clara's answer: "No, dear; if he were, John would have taken him down to the Salt Lake House. And how could John bring in a soldier? They are all out east. John has been down to San Bernardino."