At those words of comfort the look on Jason’s face changed to one of tormented heart hunger. He said abruptly: “I can’t tell you all that happened. Junior’s father came to our house threatening to kill me. If you pass the bank to-day, you may notice that the Senior Moreland has had an accident. That other time he came to our house, up to my room, and beat me almost to death. This time I flung a stool at him half way up the stairs and jumped from the window. Whatever is the matter with him is what I did to him. But I got my punishment fast enough. I thought I’d be hanged for killing him. I stayed all night in the woods and it was cold and awful. I went back to find Marcia gone and the house empty, but I’ve got a chance to work here for Peter.” Then Jason stopped and shut his mouth and held it stiff and tense, and by sheer will power, he kept back the impending tears. A slow red had crept into his cheeks and there was colour in his lips. Mahala was hurt intensely. Without a thought for anything, she crowded close to Jason. She laid her hands on his sleeve. Across the grocery Peter Potter had been watching them intently. The street was full of people. Two women were heading toward his door. He walked back and placed his body between Mahala and Jason and the line of the door. He laid one arm across Jason’s shoulder and then he said to Mahala casually: “Now you had better step along to school, little lady. Jason’s a good boy. I’m goin’ to fix him a room above the grocery where he can study his books and keep up with his lessons at night. I’d be deeply obliged, and so would he, if you could manage to run in once a week and tell him how far his class has gone with the lessons.” Instantly Mahala stepped back. She would not venture another look at Jason, but she met the eyes of Peter frankly, while in her most gracious manner she held out her hand. “Thank you very much, Peter,” she said, “I think it’s splendid of you to help Jason, because you and I know that when he is the smartest boy in the class, he shouldn’t be forced to quit school.” She turned and started from the grocery. Half way down the aisle, and directly facing the women who were entering, she wheeled, with a graceful gesture of remembrance. “Peter,” she called in her clear voice, “Mother says that she hasn’t had a bite of such delicious ham between her teeth in two or three years as those last ones you got from the country. She wants you to save another one for us.” Then she smiled on both the advancing women. “Good morning, Mrs. Sims. Good morning, Mrs. Jordan,” she said in her very best manner. “I was telling Peter to save another one of his delicious hams for us. You really should try them.”