"I hope Dad's tooth is better," said Judith, as dim buildings and a lighted window shone though the dusk. "Are you really afraid of Dad?" asked Douglas suddenly. "No," replied Judith, thoughtfully, "but sometimes I hate him." "I think he's a pretty good old scout in spite of his temper," said the boy. "Well," admitted Judith, "I guess I do too. At least, I can see why so many women like him. He's awful good-looking. I can see that now I'm growing up." "Growing up!" mocked Douglas. But before Judith could pick up the gauntlet, the horses came to pause before the lighted window. Judith jumped from Swift, unsaddled her and turned her into the corral. Then she went hurriedly into the house. Douglas unsaddled more slowly, and strode toward the sheds where calves were bellowing and cows lowing. For half an hour he worked in the starlight, throwing alfalfa to the crowding stock. It was so cold that by the time he had finished he scarcely could turn the door-knob with his aching fingers. He entered the kitchen. It was a large room, with the log walls neatly chinked and whitewashed. An unshaded kerosene lamp burned on the big table in the middle of the room. Judith was cutting bread. The air was heavy with smoke from frying beef. A tall, slender woman, with round shoulders, stood over the red-hot stove, stirring the potatoes. She was a very beautiful, very worn edition of Judith, though one wondered if she ever burned with even a small portion of Judith's eager, wistful fires. She turned as Douglas came in and gave him a quick smile. "Cold, Douglas?" she asked. The boy nodded. "Where's Dad?" "In the other room. His tooth still aches, I guess." "Is he sore because I'm late?" asked the boy, scowling. Judith answered with a curious jerking of her breath. "He tried to kick me. I hate him!" Douglas grunted and marched through the inner door into the one other room of the house. It was at least twenty-five feet square. The log walls were whitewashed like the kitchen and from one of the huge pine rafters hung a lamp which shed a pleasant light on a center table. Beds occupied three corners of the room. There were several comfortable rocking-chairs, a big mahogany bureau and a sewing-machine. Over the double bed hung an ancient saber and over a low bookcase was a framed sampler. There were several good old-fashioned engravings and some framed lithographs with numerous books and piles of dilapidated magazines. Doug's father stood by the table with a book in his hand.