Climbing up on the wheel and holding her lantern down into the box, she saw the light reflected on the oily amber surface of flax. Lifting a handful, she watched it slip between her fingers. It felt cool and smooth and clean. Somehow there came to her, with its velvety touch, a new hope and faith, the faith which makes all things possible to those who must win success only by trying again and again. On the long ride home with the flax John had had ample time for thought, and he came to realize what Jane’s faith and courage had meant to him that day, and what it would mean in the anxious days to come, and he tried to give expression to the thought. “You sure are the best little crutch any lame man could have, honey girl.” “Lame man! Don’t say it! You’re not a lame man!” “Not physically, I’ll admit but--Jane, where did you get all your courage? You’re like a rubber ball. Punch you in one place, and you bob out in another. Now, me, if I’m punched in, any place, I stay punched in, I guess.” Jane laughed, but she recognized his troubled thought under his levity. “You’re unjust to yourself, John. This is the difference between us. You have all the care and worry. You have the responsibility, not only of your own future-- which, if you were alone, would bother you not at all--but also the responsibility of my future and--our children’s future. Don’t you know that the fear of failure is what takes the courage out of a man? What you have to learn is how to forget to be afraid; and you know you will never lose your crutch, so what does the rest matter?” “It doesn’t matter at all, honey. Nothing matters as long as we have each other.... Get up on the seat with me and ride to the granary. I’m tired and hungry too.” “Oh, John, and I have kept you here gabbling all this time! No, I’ll run into the house and have something nice and hot for your supper by the time you’ve unhitched.” * * * * * Next morning Grahame went over the field and debated with himself whether it would be better to disk or not before hitching on to the drill, but in the end he decided that the disking would dry out the soil and that with the additional time it would take, would do more to lessen his chances than the few weeds that might survive.