“I dreamed you were here,” she whispered, “and I'm dreaming right now that you are here. Why, I see you.” Gently he took her face in his hands, and when she felt his touch she looked at him wildly and the tears sprang. From that day on she gained fast, and from the nurse, her mother, and the neighbors she soon knew the story of Doctor Jim.
“So you thought Red King was my father,” she said, “and that he was in the penitentiary?” Doctor Jim nodded shamefacedly.
“Well, even that wouldn't have been so bad—not down here. And maybe you thought I didn't want you to come on account of Jerry Lipps.” Again Doctor Jim nodded admission, and Juno laughed.
“I never thought of that, and if I had,” she added proudly and scornfully, “I never would have been afraid—for you.”
“Then why didn't you want me to come?”
“I didn't know you—didn't know the big, big man you are. Now I'm shamed—and happy.”
One morning, three weeks later, Jay Dawn and Lum Chapman brought up a litter that Lum had made, and they two and Black King and Doctor Jim made ready to carry Juno down the mountain. Jerry Lipps was passing in the road when they bore her out the gate, and he started to sidle by with averted eyes. Doctor Jim halted.
“Here, Jerry!” he called. “You take my place.” And Jerry, red as an oak leaf in autumn, stepped up to the litter, and up at her old lover Juno smiled.
“Doc,” said Jerry, “I got a job.”
Behind, Pleasant Trouble swung along with Doctor Jim. Mother Camp followed on horseback. People ran from every house to greet Juno, or from high on the hillsides waved their hands and shouted “how-dyes” down to her. Soon they were at the Mission, where St. Hilda and Uncle Jerry and Aunt Jane were waiting on the porch, and where pale little boys and girls trooped weakly from the tents to welcome her. And then at a signal from Doctor Jim the four picked up the litter.