"Didn't say nothin.' Jes' axed her whyn't she hol' her head like I did? an' she said, 'Don't want to.' So I said, 'Don't want to.'" He twisted his head about to look up in David's face, and his lips smiled, but in his eyes was a suspicion of tears. His heart heavy for the child, David praised him for a brave little chap, comforting him as best he could. "You reckon she'd like me if I war to give her this here balloon?" "No, you take that home to sister. The little girl can get one when the circus comes again." But after dinner, David did not send Hoyle off to play the hour with Dorothy. He took her on his knee and entertained them both with tales and mimicry until he had them in gales of laughter, and for the time being Hoyle forgot his troubles. As the days passed, David became more and more interested in his patch of ground and the growing things in his garden. Never had he labored with his hands in this fashion, and each night he lay down to sleep physically weary, in contentment of spirit. Steadily he progressed toward the desired goal of health. In his young wife, also, he found a rich satisfaction, watching her unfold and blossom into the gracious wifehood and ladyhood he had dreamed of for her. Together they used to stroll to the little farm, where she told him all she knew about the crops--what was best for the animals, and what would be needed for themselves. Long before David was able to oversee the work himself, she had set Elwine Timms to sowing cow-peas and planting corn. "Behold your heritage!" David said to her one morning, as they strolled thus among the thrifty greenness and patches of vetch where the cow was contentedly feeding. He laughed joyously and drew his wife's arm through his. She looked up at him wistfully. He thought she sighed, and bent his head to listen. "What was that little sound?" "I was only thinking." "We'll sit here where we sat that morning when we both put our hands to the plough, and you tell me what you were thinking." "I ought not to stop now, David. I've left all for mother to do. I was that busy at the cabin I didn't get down to her this morning." "You can't keep two homes going with only your own two dear hands, Cassandra. It must be stopped. We'll find some one to live with your mother and take your place." She gave a little gasp, then sat silently, her hands dropped passively in her lap, and he thought she seemed sad. He took her face between his hands and made her look into his eyes. "Don't be worried, sweetheart; we'll make a few changes. You're mine now, you know--not only to serve me and labor for me as you have been doing all these weeks, but--" "But I like it, David. I like doing for you. I hope it may always be so I can do for you." "Would you like me to become an invalid again so you could keep on in the way you began?"