"I went to your principal at the school. She said she would talk to the managers and had no doubt that if it was needful they would let you off for a time. Now as I can fix the thing with the doctor, there's no reason you shouldn't quit work and stop with us." Agatha colored angrily. George meant well, but he had gone too far. She felt this worse because she was tempted to give way. She liked her brother's wife and needed a rest. "Well," she said, "I suppose I ought to have expected something of the kind, but it's comforting to feel that your efforts are wasted. I shall be quite well in a week or two and am going back to school. For one thing, I shall need some money before very long." George looked hard at her. "You don't say why. Still if it's money that prevents you taking the proper line, I might lend you some--" He stopped and resumed with suspicion: "But I won't give you a dollar to waste in searching for father's silver lode!" "I am going to look for the lode," said Agatha quietly. "I hoped you had got over that foolishness," George rejoined, throwing his cigarette on the floor, although he was generally careful about such things. "Now listen to me for a few minutes, and try to be sensible!" "One misses much by always being sensible," Agatha remarked with a resigned smile. "It often saves one's relations trouble. Anyhow, the blamed lode has thrown its shadow on all our lives, and I don't mean to stand off, saying nothing, and see you spoil yours." "You escaped the shadow, because you never believed in the lode." "I certainly didn't and don't believe in it now! For all that, I saw father's restlessness and mother's fears." "Ah!" said Agatha, "I didn't think--" "I allow I haven't your imagination, but I can see a thing that's obvious. Father thought he hid his feelings, but mother knew and grieved. She was afraid he would give us up and go back to the North." "No!" said Agatha with firmness; "she was not afraid he would give us up! Father never failed in his duty." "Then she was certainly afraid he'd die in the bush; as he did. She knew what the prospectors were up against, and though she smiled when he talked about the ore, I knew she had an anxious heart. I don't claim that the anxiety broke her down, but it made a heavy load and helped." "Yet when she was very ill she did not ask him to promise he wouldn't go." "She did not mind then," said George in a quiet voice. "She was dying and we had grown up. But there was nothing selfish about her acquiescence. I think she was glad to set him free, because she loved him and knew what he had borne. He was a dreamer and not a business man. She had run the store and taken care of him, and knew he would be lonely after she had gone. Besides, I sometimes feel she thought he would follow and rejoin her soon. It did not matter by what road he came."