Sister Soulsby slowly shook her head.  “If there hadn’t been a screw loose somewhere,” she said gently, “Octavius wouldn’t have hurt him.  No, take my word for it, he never was the right man for the place.  He seemed to be, no doubt, but he wasn’t.  When pressure was put on him, it found out his weak spot like a shot, and pushed on it, and—­well, it came near smashing him, that’s all.”

“And do you think he’ll always be a—­a back-slider,” mourned Alice.

“For mercy’s sake, don’t ever try to have him pretend to be anything else!” exclaimed the other.  “The last state of that man would be worse than the first.  You must make up your mind to that.  And you mustn’t show that you’re nervous about it.  You mustn’t get nervous!  You mustn’t be afraid of things.  Just you keep a stiff upper lip, and say you will get along, you will be happy.  That’s your only chance, Alice.  He isn’t going to be an angel of light, or a saint, or anything of that sort, and it’s no good expecting it.  But he’ll be just an average kind of man—­a little sore about some things, a little wiser than he was about some others.  You can get along perfectly with him, if you only keep your courage up, and don’t show the white feather.”

“Yes, I know; but I’ve had it pretty well taken out of me,” commented Alice.  “It used to come easy to me to be cheerful and resolute and all that; but it’s different now.”

Sister Soulsby stole a swift glance at the unsuspecting face of her companion which was not all admiration, but her voice remained patiently affectionate.  “Oh, that’ll all come back to you, right enough.  You’ll have your hands full, you know, finding a house, and unpacking all your old furniture, and buying new things, and getting your home settled.  It’ll keep you so busy you won’t have time to feel strange or lonesome, one bit.  You’ll see how it’ll tone you up.  In a year’s time you won’t know yourself in the looking-glass.”

“Oh, my health is good enough,” said Alice; “but I can’t help thinking, suppose Theron should be taken sick again, away out there among strangers.  You know he’s never appeared to me to have quite got his strength back.  These long illnesses, you know, they always leave a mark on a man.”

“Nonsense!  He’s strong as an ox,” insisted Sister Soulsby.  “You mark my word, he’ll thrive in Seattle like a green bay-tree.”

“Seattle!” echoed Alice, meditatively.  “It sounds like the other end of the world, doesn’t it?”

The noise of feet in the house broke upon the colloquy, and the women went indoors, to join the breakfast party.  During the meal, it was Brother Soulsby who bore the burden of the conversation.  He was full of the future of Seattle and the magnificent impending development of that Pacific section.  He had been out there, years ago, when it was next door to uninhabited.  He had visited the district twice since, and the changes discoverable each new