Miss Ruby bent her head a little forward, as if under the weight of her moral obligations.
"Has he joined the church?" inquired Lib in a curious voice.
"He's been going to the union meetings regular with me, and he's stood up twice for prayers, but I dunno 's they'd take him into the church with all these stories going about. You'd ought to think of that, too—you may be standing in the way of saving his soul."
"If his soul was lost, it would be awful hard to find," said Lib quietly.
Her listener's weak mouth slackened. "Wh-at?" she asked, with a little stuttering gasp.
"Oh, I dunno. Some things are hard to find when they're lost, you know."
"And you'll speak up and tell the truth?" The visitor arose, gathering her flounces about her with one hand.
"If I speak up, I'll tell the truth, you can bet on that," said Lib.
Miss Adair waited an instant, as if for some assurance which Lib did not vouchsafe. Then she writhed down the walk in her twisted drapery and disappeared.
Thad Farnham and his father had been cutting down a eucalyptus-tree. The two men looked small and mean clambering over the felled giant, as if belonging to some species of destructive insect. The tree in its fall had bruised the wild growth, and the air was full of oily medicinal odors. Long strips of curled cinnamon-colored bark strewed the ground. The father and son confronted each other across the pallid trunk. The older man's face was leathery-red with anger.