"To try and say a little of what is in their hearts"--Mrs. Thornton stepped impulsively forward and held out her hands to Helena--and then, breaking down suddenly, she began to sob, and the two were in each other's arms, Mrs. Thornton's head buried on Helena's shoulder, Helena's face lowered, her brown hair mingling with the gold of the other's, her arms about the frail form that shook convulsively. Doc Madison shot a covert glance at the three behind him--Thornton, and Holmes, and Mrs. Holmes. Holmes, with downcast eyes, was shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot; Mrs. Holmes, her woman's instinct touched, was watching the scene with face aglow, her eyes moist anew; Thornton was staring fascinated at Helena, a sort of breathless, wondering admiration in his eyes. Madison involuntarily followed Thornton's look; then stole a glance back at Thornton again--Thornton was still gazing intently at Helena. "Say," observed Madison to himself, "the longer you live the more you learn, don't you? That's the kind of stuff Helena wears from now on, the clinging white with the bare throat effect and all that. Why, say, like that she's what the poets call radiantly divine--eh, what?" Mrs. Thornton raised her head, and her hands creeping to Helena's face brushed the brown hair tenderly back from the white forehead. "Oh, how good and sweet and pure you are!" she murmured brokenly. A quick, sudden flush, passing to all but Madison as one of demure and startled modesty, swept in a crimson tide to Helena's face. "You--you must not say that," she faltered, shaking her head. "I--you must not say that." Mrs. Thornton smiled at her--and slipped her arm affectionately around Helena's waist. "I could not help it, dear," she whispered. "It came spontaneously. And it makes me so happy to find you like this, and it makes it so much more a joy in doing what we have come to talk to you about." "What you have come to talk to me about?"--Helena, steadying herself, repeated the words almost composedly. "Oh, yes," said Mrs. Thornton, an eagerness in her voice again. "But--may we come in? Is it--" "All may come in here," Helena answered softly, "and"--her eyes met Thornton's fixed gaze and dropped quickly--"please come in," she ended abruptly. --XIII-- REAL MONEY The two women passed inside the cottage, Mrs. Thornton holding out her hand again to the little lad; while Holmes and his wife followed hesitantly, awed. In the rear, Thornton grasped Madison's arm suddenly. "I never saw such a beautiful face," he whispered tensely. "It's wonderful." "Yes," assented Madison. "But everything here seems full of a rare, strange beauty, a hallowed something--it lifts one beyond material things. You _feel_ it--a great, calm solemnity all about you." He closed the door softly behind him. Mrs. Thornton's eyes swept questioningly, anxiously and a little timidly about the plain, simple, quiet room; and then she spoke, her voice unconsciously hushed: "He--he is not here?"