sudden and overwhelming exasperation. "What makes you such a fool, Jude?"
"How can I help talking about it when it's my mother your father's so rough with. Of course, you don't care."
"I do, too, care. I think a lot of her, but he don't mean half he says."
"Well, he'd better begin to stop knocking me around when he's mad, or I'll run away."
"Especially in the winter, I suppose," sniffed Douglas, "when it would be plain suicide."
"I don't care if it's in a blizzard," insisted Judith. "When I've had enough, I'll go."
Douglas laughed. "Hanged if I don't think you would, too, Jude. You've got the nerve of a wolverine."
"I hope Dad's tooth is better," said Judith, as dim buildings and a lighted window shone though the dusk.
"Are you really afraid of Dad?" asked Douglas suddenly.
"No," replied Judith, thoughtfully, "but sometimes I hate him."
"I think he's a pretty good old scout in spite of his temper," said the boy.
"Well," admitted Judith, "I guess I do too. At least, I can see why so many women like him. He's awful good-looking. I can see that now I'm growing up."
"Growing up!" mocked Douglas.
But before Judith could pick up the gauntlet, the horses came to pause before the lighted window. Judith jumped from Swift, unsaddled her and turned her into the corral. Then she went hurriedly into the house. Douglas unsaddled more slowly, and strode toward the sheds where calves were bellowing and cows lowing.
For half an hour he worked in the starlight, throwing alfalfa to the crowding stock. It was so cold that by the
