“What in the world do you children mean by this kind of talk?” he shouted.  “I couldn’t help hearing while I was sorting mail.  What do you mean by thinking such thoughts, Judith?  Have you the nerve to admit that you are patterning your ideas on a woman like Inez?”

“I don’t care what she is,” replied Judith obstinately.  “She’s the only woman in Lost Chief who can talk about anything but babies and cattle raising.  And more than that, and anyhow, I like her.”

Peter took a turn or two up and down the room.

“I don’t object so much to your liking her,” he said, “as I do to your absorbing her cynical ideas.”

“Pshaw, Peter!  I don’t notice you’re displaying a wife and a happy home for us to copy after!” sniffed Judith.  “What I want you old people to do is to show me by example how practical and true all these fine old precepts are that you are so free about laying down for us kids.  Where’s your happy marriage, Peter?”

Peter’s lips twisted painfully.  “My happy marriage is in Limbo, Judith, with the rest of my dreams.  As for being old—­why, Jude, I’m still in my forties.”

“Forty!” gasped Judith.

“Yes, forty; and if I hadn’t been a fool I’d still be facing the most useful part of my life.  Heaven knows, children, I’m not offering myself or any one else in Lost Chief as an example to you.”

“What do you offer?” asked Jude with an impish smile.

Again Peter paced the room before coming to pause by Douglas’ pillow.

“You both heard what I said this morning about the lack of a church in Lost Chief.  That’s what you children need for a pattern.  Disagree with his creed as you might, the right kind of a preacher in here could answer your questions as they should be answered.  If the church doesn’t form ideals for young people like you, loose women and loose men will.”

“That might be true, Peter,” said Douglas; “but I don’t see why you should expect us to believe the stuff you can’t believe yourself.”

Peter winced, then said gruffly, “I don’t know as I do.  All I know is that when I was a boy I went to church on Sunday morning with my mother and that there was an old vicar who would have set me straight on the things you are talking about, if I’d have let him.”

“Couldn’t you believe what he said?” asked Douglas.

“I never went to him.  I preferred my own rotten ideas.  I—­” He drew himself up with a sudden expression of disgust.  “Faugh!  How like a fool I’m talking!” He stalked out, this time closing the door of the room behind him.

“I wonder who Peter really is?” said Judith in a low voice.

Douglas shook his head.  “Dad says he’s seen better days.  He sure has suffered a lot over something or other.”

“I wish I knew all about life that he does!” exclaimed Judith.

“I don’t wish either of us did,” said Douglas.  Then he put out his hand to touch Judith’s knee with infinite tenderness.  “Couldn’t you manage to fall in love with me, Jude dear?  I’d stay your lover all my life.”