"What is he--to you!" Nella-Rose confronted her sister squarely. Blue eyes--bold, cold blue they were--looked into dark ones even now so soft and winning that it was difficult to resist them. "If you let him alone, he'll be everything to me!" Marg blurted out. "What do you want of him, Nella-Rose?--of him or any other man? But if you must have a sweetheart, pick and choose and let me have my day." The rough appeal struck almost brutally on Nella-Rose's ears. She was as un-moral, perhaps, as Marg, but she was more discriminating. "I'm mighty tired of cleaning and cooking for--for father and you!" Marg tossed her head toward Lone Dome. "Father's mostly always drunk these days and you--what do you care what becomes of me? Leave me to get a man of my own and then I'll be human. I've been--killing the hog to-day!" Marg suddenly and irrelevantly burst out; "I--I shall never do it again. We'll starve first!" "Why didn't father?" Nella-Rose said, softly. "Father? Huh! he couldn't have held the knife. He went for the jug--and got it full! No, I had to do it, but it's the last time. Nella-Rose, tell me where Burke is hidden--tell me! Leave me free to--to win him; let me have my chance!" "And then who'll kill the pig?" Nella-Rose shuddered. "Who cares?" Marg flung back. "No! Find him if you can. Fair play--no favours; what I find is open to you!" Nella-Rose laughed impishly and, darting past her sister, ran down the path. Marg stood and watched her with baffled rage and hate. For a moment she almost decided to take her chances and seek Burke Lawson in the distant Hollow. But night was coming--the black, drear night of the low places. Marg was desperate, but a primitive conservatism held her. Not for all she hoped to gain would she brave Burke Lawson alone in the secret places of Devil-may-come Hollow! So she followed after Nella-Rose and reached home while her sister was preparing the evening meal. Peter Greyson, the father, sat huddled in a big chair by the fire. He had arrived at that stage of returning consciousness when he felt that it was incumbent upon him to explain himself. He had been a handsome man, of the dashing cavalry type and he still bore traces of past glory. In his worst moments he never swore before ladies, and in his best he remembered what was due them and upheld their honour and position with fervour. "Lil' Nella-Rose," he was saying as Marg paused outside the door in the dark, "why don't you marry Burke Lawson and settle down here with me?" "He hasn't asked me, father."