Then suddenly her face cleared; as she heard a sleepy yawn from the bed; little Meg lay watching her, her sleep-filled eyes smiling their same brave smile. At least, Jane thought, she had Meg--and Dan's wife had not even had a Meg. Dan's wife had never known the sweetness of clinging hands and the comfort of damp baby kisses. So even for her, life still held compensation. She looked out at the west where the riotous reds had now faded to soft rose and gray. The outlines of the woods were softened and the nodding tree-tops seemed beckoning her to come away with them. Almost involuntarily the woman stretched out her hands towards the trees, and her hungry eyes filled with tears. Perhaps some day, when little Meg became stronger--perhaps some day they two--just they--might go away somewhere, together--somewhere where the world was all soft rose and gray, where there were no endless days of toil, no angry voice, nothing but peace. Then perhaps Meg would-- "Jane," a rough voice broke in on her musings, "fer God's sake, woman, what ails ye? Seven o'clock an' no bite to eat ready!" Jane hurriedly rose from the window. For the first time in her life she had let her day-dreams really make her forget her dull, common-place world. She stopped to smooth Meg's moist curls, and ran downstairs. There at the foot stood her husband, a whole day's displeasure frowning forth in his face, an angry light in his eyes. "I know it's late, Jim--it's too bad," Jane faltered, "but you never had to wait before. I was busy--I was thinking--I--" "Busy!" he sneered. "Busy! Settin' down doin' nothin' but hushin' that blamed brat. Let her alone. She ain't only a nuisance anyhow--spend yer time on something worth while." Half unconsciously Jane looked at her hands; the forefinger of the right was rough and needle-pricked, and her hands were red and raw from much dish-washing and cleaning. She thought to herself how often she longed to caress little Meg, to hug her and rock her for a whole afternoon, to love, love, love her to her heart's content--but she had never found time. Then her husband's last cutting words came back to her. She took a step forward, the suffering of years in her face. The red spots on her cheeks were very red now. "Can I help it," she gasped, "that my baby is a puny little thing? Is it my fault? What care has she ever had, excepting what I have been able to steal for her? If you were a man like other men--not a brute--then perhaps you would understand!" She clinched her hand and looked defiantly up into his face. Jim stood still for a moment, astonished at the outburst from his meek wife. Then his quick anger blazed up, and, lifting his big hand, he struck Jane full in the face. She fell back against the stairway, her face white, save for the red spots which were livid now. Her eyes, were full of tears from the force of the blow. She heard Jim's voice from a distance.