gazed there returned to Douglas the sense of panic that had harassed him
after Oscar's death. What did it all mean? Whither was he directed and by
what? How long before he too would be swept into the awful void beyond
the grave?

"That's what religion did for folks all these years," he said suddenly.
"They never asked these questions, I'll bet. I wish I had it."

"I don't want to believe fairy tales just because I'm scared!" Judith
tossed her head stoutly.

"I don't either," agreed Douglas dejectedly.

"I'm going to drive on home and get something to eat," said Judith,
lifting the reins. "Food's the only thing that'll rid me of the dumb
horrors."

Douglas settled back against the hay, and the rest of the ride was
continued in silence.

Old Johnny Brown stayed on for a day or so to clean up odd jobs neglected
during the haying season. He was a gentle, timid little chap, the butt of
the entire valley, of course, and particularly of John Spencer. Douglas
often wondered why old Johnny consented to work each year at this season
for his father. This wonderment was solved the day after Doug's and
Jude's conversation on the load of hay and in a manner destined in a
small way to have its influence on Douglas' affairs in the years to come.

Just before supper Judith returned from the post-office and rushed into
the kitchen with a huge, long-legged, ugly puppy in her arms. She set him