And there was no doubt that on the whole she was happy. The reaction from the _sturm-und-drang_ period before her marriage was passing but had not yet wholly passed. Her spirit still slept after the hurricane. Naturally a little indolent, and living freely and fully, if without passion, her nature flowed pleasantly through rich pastures along the channels grooved in earth by the age-long travail of the spirit. Jenny and little Ned followed Susie, just a year between each child. Ernie loved his children, especially always the last for the time being; but the element of wonder had vanished and with it much of the impetus that had kept him steady for so long. "How is it now?" asked his mate, on hearing of the birth of the boy. "O, it's all right," answered Ernie, wagging his head. "Only it ain't quite the same like. You gets used to it, as the sayin is." "And you'll get use-ter to it afore you're through, you'll see," his friend answered, not without a touch of triumphant bitterness. He liked others to suffer what he had suffered himself. As little by little the romance of wife and children began to lose its glamour, and the economic pressure steadily increased, the old weakness began at times to re-assert itself in Ernie. He haunted the _Star_ over much. Joe Burt chaffed him. "Hitch your wagon to a star by all means, Ern," he said. "But not that one." Mr. Pigott too cautioned him once or twice, alike as friend and employer. "Family man now, you know, Ernie," he said. The sinner was always disarming in his obviously sincere penitence. "I knaw I've unbuttoned a bit of late, sir," he admitted. "I'll brace up. I will and I can." And at the critical moment the fates, which seemed as fond of Ernie as was everybody else, helped him. Susie, his first-born, caught pneumonia. The shock stimulated Ernie; as shock always did. The steel that was in him gleamed instantly through the rust. "Say, we shan't lose her!" he asked Mr. Trupp in staccato voice. Mr. Trupp knew Ernie, knew his weakness, knew human nature. "Can't say," he muttered. "Might not." Ern went to the window and looked out on the square tower of the old church on the Kneb above him. His eyes were bright and his uncollared neck seemed strangely long and thin. "She's got to live," he muttered defiantly. The doctor nodded grimly. The Brute had pounced on Ernie sleeping and was shaking him as a dog shakes a rat. Mr. Trupp, who had no intention of losing Susie, was by no means sorry. "If it's got to be, it's got to be," said Ruth, busy with poultices. "Only it won't be if I can help it." She was calm and strong as Ernie was fiercely resentful. That angered Ernie, who was seeking someone to punish in his pain. When Mr. Trupp had left he turned on Ruth. "You take it cool enough!" he said with a rare sneer. She looked at him, surprised. "Well, where's the sense in wearin yourself into a fret?" answered Ruth. "That doosn't help any as I can see."