"It is time I was going," Frazier announced. "I don't know what has come over me of late, little girl, but I know that I am different from what I used to be. If I hadn't been I'd never have said what I've said to-night. I hope you will be happy. You'd never have been so with me—never! Good-by!"
"Good-by!" she echoed. She was crying. Why? She couldn't have answered. She went with him to the gate. She held his arm in a gentle grasp of pitying gratitude. They shook hands over the gate. He took up the reins, got into the buggy with his old ponderous movement, raised his hat, and the impatient horse bore him away.
She turned and glanced up at the window of Charles's room. He was standing there, looking at her, but she could not see him through the murky panes.
"Now go to bed, darling," a voice from the past whispered in her subconscious ear, "Mother is watching over you."
CHAPTER XXVIII
The next day, in the afternoon, Charles and the boys were in the blacksmith's shop repairing a plow that was to be used immediately. Kenneth was at the bellows, and Charles at the anvil, his sleeves rolled high on his brawny arms. Martin stood in the doorway. Presently he whistled softly, and ran to Charles just as he was about to strike the red-hot plowshare which he was holding on the anvil.
"Don't make any noise!" he said. "I see a buggy and horse stopping at the gate. It looks like the sheriff's rig, and I think he is in it."
Charles dropped his tools, and he and his companions crept to a crack in the wall and peered through it.
"That's who it is," Kenneth informed Charles, in a startled voice. "I wonder if—if Tobe has become worse, or—or—"