All the rest of the winter afternoon, Lydia slept. The sun dipped low beyond the white hills, filling the living-room with scarlet for one breathless moment, before a blanket of twilight hid all save the red eyes of the base burner. Amos came home at seven and he and Lizzie ate supper in silence except for the old lady's story of Kent's visit. "Poor young one," muttered Amos, looking slowly toward the quiet blond head on the faded brown cushion. "I'm glad she's a child and 'll forget it soon." Lizzie gave Amos a curious glance. "You don't know Lydia, Amos," she said. He did not seem to hear her. He moved his chair toward the stove, put his feet on the fender, lighted his pipe and then sat without moving until a stamping of feet and a hearty rap on the door roused him. Lizzie let John Levine in. "Where's Lydia?" was Levine's first Question. Lizzie pointed to the couch, where, undisturbed, Lydia slept on. "Good!" said John. He drew his chair up beside Amos' and the two fell into low-voiced conversation. It must have been nine o'clock when Lydia opened her eyes to hear Amos say fretfully, "I tell you, I went to him to-day as I'll go to no man again. I begged him to renew the note, but he insisted his duty to the bank wouldn't let him. I told him it would put you in a terrible fix, that you'd gone on the note when you couldn't afford it. He grinned a devil's grin then and said, 'Amos, I know you've got nothing to lose in this. If you had, for the sake of your children--I mean Lydia, I'd hold off. But Levine can fix it up!'" "So I could, ordinarily," said Levine in a troubled voice. "But it just happens that everything I've got on earth is shoe-stringed out to hang onto that pine section of mine up in Bear county. I'm mortgaged up to my eyebrows. Marshall knows it and sees a chance to get hold of the pines, damn him!" Lydia sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Well! Well! young Lydia," cried Levine. "Had a fine sleep, didn't you!" "I'm awful hungry," said the child. "Bless your soul," exclaimed Lizzie. "I'll warm your supper up for you in a minute." Lydia stood with hands outstretched to the base burner, her hair tumbled, her glance traveling from Amos to Levine. "What makes Mr. Marshall act so?" she asked. "Sho," said Levine, "little girls your age don't know anything about such things, do they, Amos? Come here. You shall eat your supper on my lap." "I'm getting too old for laps," said Lydia, coming very willingly nevertheless within the compass of John's long arms. "But I love you next to Daddy now, in all the world." John swept her to his knees and put his cheek against hers for a moment, while tears gleamed in his black eyes. "Eat your supper and go to bed, Lydia," said Amos. "Don't be so cross, Amos," protested Levine. "God knows I'm not cross--to Lydia of all people in the world," sighed Amos, "but she worries over money matters just the way her mother did and I want to finish talking this over with you."