This page needs to be proofread.
THE SHEPHERD OF THE HILLS
Aloud, he said, "Yes, Father, it's Pete. Pete, an' Dad, an' the other man." As he spoke he drew aside the curtain.
For an instant the two men paused on the threshold. The room was small, and nearly bare of furniture. In the full glare of the lamp, so shaded as to throw the rest of the room in deep shadow, hung a painting that seemed to fill the rude chamber with its beauty. It was the picture of a young woman, standing by a spring of water, a cup brimming full in her outstretched hand.
On a bed in the shadow, facing the picture, lay a man. A voice faltered, "Father. Dr. Coughlan."
315
