“It’s about Ben,” said Jasper, “and I wish he was in hell! The way he is carryin’ on is killin’ my girl by inches.” With this stout denunciation of Ben ringing in his ears Justin went in to see Mary. She had been crying. Jasper followed him into the house and stood within the doorway, in an uneasy, angry attitude, holding his soiled hat in his hands. “I wanted to see you about Ben,” said Mary, rising to greet Justin. Her cheeks were pale and her eyes lacked lustre. With that rose-leaf color gone, her face was so pallid that it deepened by contrast the darkness of her eyes and her hair. She was rather handsome, in spite of all, in one of those Denver dresses chosen by Sibyl Dudley, which served to make her look taller and more stately than she was. Mary’s desire was to have Justin do something to induce Ben to let liquor alone. She acknowledged that she had lost all control over him, if she had ever had any. More than once he had treated her brutally while in a fit of intoxication. Yet she had clung to him. Having won her girlish love, he still held it. She had long hoped that he would abandon his wild ways after awhile and become a sober, sensible man, to whom she could trust her life and happiness. She admitted that the hope was growing faint. “I don’t see what I can do,” said Justin, touched by her unhappiness, and perplexed. “If I go to Ben and say anything to him he will only insult me. He hasn’t liked me for a long time, as you know.” “Perhaps if you would speak to Mr. Davison,” Mary urged, with pathetic persistence. Justin was sure that would present almost as many difficulties. He knew that Philip Davison had long reasoned with Ben, and raved at him, in vain. “Since it’s known that you are his half-brother, I thought possibly you could do something. I’ve tried until I don’t know what to try next.” “Give the scamp the go-by,” said Jasper hotly. “Throw him over. Have some spunk about you, can’t ye? Why, if I was a woman, and a man should treat me as he has you, I’d send him hummin’ in a jiffy; I wouldn’t stand it.” “But you don’t understand, father.” “Don’t I? I understand too tarnal well. If I had my way I’d kick his ornery carcass out of this house, if he ever ventured to set foot in it ag’in. That’d be my way. Any other way is a fool’s way, and you ought to know it.” “Don’t listen to him, Justin,” said Mary, tearfully. “You must know how I feel, even if he doesn’t. And if you can do anything to get Ben to stop drinking and running around with Clem Arkwright I wish you would.” Never more than at that moment did Justin long for some influence with Ben. He knew he had none. He made what promises he could, but they were not very assuring. Mary followed him to the door, still urging him. Riding on, thinking of Mary, Justin encountered Lucy. She joined him, and they rode together along the homeward trail. When she rallied him on his depressed manner, he told her of Mary’s appeal.