She
had her things unpacked, her room in order herself--she didn't want your
help or mine--and herself with a fresh dress on before you could turn
round."
Kitty's eyes softened still more. "Well, if she'd been poor he would
never have left her, and then they wouldn't have lost five years--think
of it, five years of life with the man you love lost to you!--and there
wouldn't be this tough old knot to untie now."
"She has suffered--that little sparrow has suffered, I tell you, Kitty.
She has a grip on herself like--like--"
"Like Mr. Crozier with a broncho under his hand," interjected Kitty.
"She's too neat, too eternally spick and span for me, mother. It's as
though the Being that made her said, 'Now I'll try and see if I can
produce a model of a grown-up, full-sized piece of my work.' Mrs.
Crozier is an exhibition model, and Shiel Crozier's over six feet three,
and loose and free, and like a wapiti in his gait. If he was a wapiti
he'd carry the finest pair of antlers ever was."
"Kitty, you make me laugh," responded the puzzled woman. "I declare,
you're the most whimsical creature, and--"
At that moment there came a tapping at the door behind them, and a small,
silvery voice said, "May I come in?" as the door opened and Mrs.
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