struck by its inadequacy. There was something lacking, something vital had gone, and its passing dated to the hour of John Taylor's departure.
She had known too little sympathy, had had too little support in those years she had been forced to fight with men like Sim Bums, she had put up with ridicule and feeble attempts at double dealing and with the burden of her work, but she had always met them with a stout fighting spirit. They had stirred her temper and left her heart untouched, but now she seemed only to be making fighting gestures, with no spirit behind them.
Bobby Kildare appeared below and called in his high treble that he wanted to come up. Bobby always wanted to come up! He begged throughout the summer to be in the crow's nest and, taken there, begged to be left alone with the responsibility of watching for smoke.
"All right; come slowly, Bobby," she warned and, eager hands and feet and eyes all alert, he came up the ladder, held to slow progress only by her repeated caution.
"There!" he sighed as he set foot on the platform and Helen dropped the trap closed. "There, I am!"
His face was very bright, lips parted eagerly as he took the field glass and stared to south and west.
"No fires in sight," he said. "Huh!" and looked at her and shifted his feet and Helen laughed at his enthusiastic happiness.
"No fires near, Bobby—where were you this morning?"
"To the—at the mill, playin' with the Injun boys and Henny Raymer.
"Aunt Helen, are you going away?"
"Away? No. Why?"
