doesn't get his horse quickly enough, and maybe he hits her mother when he's drinking, but that's all." Judith began to gather up the dishes with trembling fingers.
"How old are you, Judith?" asked John.
"You know. I was fourteen last spring."
"By jove, you are almost a woman grown!" John swept her with a look, then rose and went into the living room.
Douglas followed him and, sitting down on the edge of his bed, he unbuckled his spurs. John settled himself under the lamp with his book, but he did not begin to read at once.
"Yes, Doug? that girl is a woman now and she has any woman in Lost Chief beaten for beauty and nerve."
Douglas gave his father a startled glance; then he said, with elaborate carelessness, "Rats! She's just a fighting kid!"
John chuckled. "I'm glad you're still only a sixteen-year-old fool, Doug."
The boy said nothing more. He scowled and sat staring at his father long after that strenuous person was absorbed in his book. Then he kicked off his boots, pulled off his vest and trousers and crawled into bed. Not long after, Mrs. Spencer came in, glanced at her husband, sighed wearily, then she too went to bed. Judith finished wiping the dishes, sauntered in to the center table and shortly was absorbed in "Bleak House." Mrs. Spencer was snoring quietly and Douglas had not stirred for an hour when he heard his father say in a low voice:
"Jude, old girl, I'm never going to lay finger on you again."
Jude gave a little gasp of surprise. "What's happened, Dad?"
