“Stick it out,” she returned briefly.
Tempest watched the brave fire gather and glow in the golden-brown eyes. He nodded contentedly.
“I was sure you would,” he said. “And don’t worry overmuch. Think that it will come right. Even”—with a kindly significance—“the part that hurts you most—and I know that’s not the general gossip. Don’t let your thoughts waver. There’s no limit to the force of thought, you know.”
“You believe that, too, then?” said Ann quickly.
“I’m sure of it,” he answered quietly. “Thought is the one great miracle-worker. Why”—with a laugh—“if you want immediate proof, it was a bad thought, some one thinking wrongly, that started all this present trouble. So that the right thought—the thought that it will all work out straight, held by you and by all of us who are your friends—is the obvious antidote. God never made a law that only works one-sidedly. If thought forces can work evil, they can assuredly work infinite good.”
“You’re an excellent ‘cheerer-up,’” said Ann, later on, when he was going. “You have cheered me, you know,” she added gratefully.
“Have I? I’m glad. And now, I want you to cheer me.”
“You?” Her voice held surprise.
“Yes, me.” He hesitated a moment. “Ann, I’m going to throw myself on your mercy. I know—to my deep shame I know that my sister has been one of the people who have helped to circulate this unfounded story about you. I want you, if you can, to try and forgive her—and me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive you for,” protested Ann.