“Yes, Babe, I realize perfectly.  I’m—­not counting on just the furniture.  I—­think it would pay to ship the stuff on to the claim.”

“For heaven’s sake, dad!  What are you counting on?” Helen May gave a hysterical laugh that set her coughing in a way to make the veins stand out on forehead and throat. (Peter’s hands blenched into fighting fists while he waited for the spasm to wear itself out.  She should not go the way her mother had gone, he was thinking fiercely.) “What—­are—­you counting on?” she repeated, when she could speak again.

“Well, I’m counting on—­a source that is sure,” Peter replied vaguely.  “The way will be provided, when the time comes.  I—­I have thought it all out calmly, Babe.  The money will be ready when you need it.”

“Dad, don’t borrow money!  It would be a load that would keep us staggering for years.  We are going along all right, better than hundreds of people all around us.  I’m feeling better than I was; now the weather is settled, I feel lots better.  You can sell whatever you bought; maybe you can make a profit on the sale.  Try and do that, dad.  Get enough profit to pay for that gray suit I saw in the window!” She was smiling at him now, the whimsical smile that was perhaps her greatest charm.

“Never mind about the gray suit.”  Peter spoke sharply.  “I won’t need it.”  He got up irritably and began pacing back and forth across the little sitting room.  “You’re not better,” he declared petulantly.  “That’s the way your mother used to talk—­even up to the very last.  A year in that office would kill you.  I know.  The doctor said so.  Your only chance is to get into a high, dry place where you can live out of doors.  He told me so.  This young man with the homestead claim was a godsend—­a godsend, I tell you!  It would be a crime—­it would be murder to let the chance slip by for lack of money.  I’d steal the money, if I knew of any way to get by with it, and if there was no other way open.  But there is a way.  I’m taking it.

“I don’t want to hear any more argument,” he exclaimed, facing her quite suddenly.  His eyes had a light she had never seen in them before.  “Monday you will go with me and attend to the necessary legal papers.  After that, I’ll attend to the means of getting there.”

He stood looking down at her where she sat with her hands clasped in her lap, staring up at him steadfastly from under her eyebrows.  His face softened, quivered until she thought he was going to cry like a woman.  But he only came and laid a shaking hand on her head and smoothed her hair as one caresses a child.

“Don’t oppose me in this, Babe,” he said wearily.  “I’ve thought it all out, and it’s best for all of us.  I can’t see you dying here by inches—­in the harness.  And think of Vic, if that happened.  He’s just at the age where he needs you.  I couldn’t do anything much with him alone.  It’s the best thing to do, the only thing to do.  Don’t say anything more against it, don’t argue.  When the time comes, you’ll do your part bravely, as I shall do mine.  And if you feel that it isn’t worth while for yourself, think of Vic.”