Copyright by Bobba-Merrill Co, WEYMOUTH JACKSON WWNU Service CHAPTER XIII—Continued |, Ernestine rose abruptly and went to tier room to change her dress before the children returned to climb upon fier. Her mind went reluctantly to Will, as though forced against itself to consider dangers. Perhaps he jeeded mothering. He was subject to periods of nervous and mental depres. sion because he could not remember that he had a body long enough to take care of it. She wondered if he were worried about money. They were spending it like water, but there seemed so much of It. The children came In, rosy and {aughing from their walk, and crowded upon her. She loved to have them close. They chattered eagerly as she sat down with them to thelr simple, appetizing supper, the nursemald smil- ing and talking to her with a pretty deference. She and Will had dinner together, later, after the children had fiad half an hour with their father, and gone up to bed. But Will did not come in at their bedtime as he usually did. Disappointed, they finally trailed off up the stairs, and Ernestine won- dered if she had missed WIIL “Has Mr. Todd been in, Molly?” “He's in the garden, ma'am,” maid replied. Ernestine went out through the din- ing room windows, across the tiled west porch and paused at the garden steps, to stare. Will stood about fifty feet away from her, leaning against the corner of the garage, his hat off, his head tilted back and his eyes fixed on the one tree that stood on the lot, a tall narrow poplar tree. Ernestine had never seen him look ilke this. The slight habitual twist of satire that had become set on his mouth was gone. Kis lips were re- faxed and full, like a child's. His black eyes, always so bright and alert, were soft now and strangely luminous in his pale thin face. And in his coun- tenance was such yearning, such poignant beauty, that Ernestine could scarcely forbear crying out. He had not noticed her, and silently she turned back to the house and si- tently closed the door behind her, For what was Will hankering there in the dusk? What did he worship? Some- thing she did not know, see nor feel, Something beyond her. Again, in the absorption of life he had slipped away from her, into some secret path he had to follow alone, Again his mind had escaped while his body only remained by her side. The poplar tree—he was ailing, as he had ailed before. She gathered herself together with a spiritual gesture. She strengthened herself, Something was imminent, something was to befall them. She realized with horror that they had not saved a cent, in all thelr new pros. perity. She was confronted with the necessity to cease her butterfly whirl ing and turn squirrel galn. For Will's run of luck would Inevitably end in disaster of some kind that she could not even forsee. Thinking of the longing and the sorrow of his face, Ernestine forgot for the moment how but a short time ago she had loved her house and blessed her possessions. Was there nothing she could do for Will? Noth. ing. She had learned this hard fact once, and let her not forget It now, Was he always to be lonely? Could not her body encompass him, her love enfold him? At times she could be close against his heart, At other times he would be remote from her, from all of them, Her spirit erled out in protest against the sense of aliena- tion that was sweeping down upon her, Her throat ached bitterly. She shook herself. This was non- sense. Because Will stared at a tree and a star she was invoking disaster. He had come In early and gone out In his garden to enjoy the evening, and the light had made him look wan, But these thin mental comments died unheeded. Nothing could shake the deep fatalistic conviction that had taid itself upon her heart, . \d . » » * ® Ernestine watched Will during the winter months that followed without making much headway In her efforts to understand him. His abstraction at times was so intense that he moved like a somnambulist. The children bloomed. Peter was a tall strong boy with a lively mind and body. It was evident that Elaine would be able to start with her lessons In another year. The baby would be three in the sum- mer, and he was every one's darling Mamma was always sending him things from New York. She could not shop without remembering him. But none of Ernestine’s joy in her