Mrs. O’Shaughnessy asked her if she had married again.

She said, “No.”

“Then,” said Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, “whose children are these?”

“My own,” she replied.

Mrs. O’Shaughnessy was relentless.  “Who is their father?” she asked.

I was right sorry for the poor little woman as she stammered, “I—­I don’t know.”

Then she went on, “Of course I do know, and I don’t believe you are spying to try to stir up trouble for my husband.  Bishop D——­ is their father, as he is still my husband, although he had to cast me off to save himself and me.  I love him and I see no wrong in him.  All the Gentiles have against him is he is a little too smart for them.  ’T was their foolish law that made him wrong the children and me, and not his wishes.”

“But,” Mrs. O’Shaughnessy said, “it places your children in such a plight; they can’t inherit, they can’t even claim his name, they have no status legally.”

“Oh, but the Bishop will see to that,” the little woman answered.

Mrs. O’Shaughnessy asked her if she had still to work as hard as she used to.

“No, I don’t believe I do,” she said, “for since Mr. D——­ has been Bishop, things come easier.  He built this house with his own money, so Deb has nothing to do with it.”

I asked her if she thought she was as happy as “second” as she would be if she was the only wife.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, “perhaps not.  Deb and me don’t always agree.  She is jealous of the children and because I am younger, and I get to feeling bad when I think she is perfectly safe as a wife and has no cares.  She has everything she wants, and I have to take what I can get, and my children have to wait upon her.  But it will all come right somewhere, sometime,” she ended cheerfully, as she wiped her eyes with her apron.

I felt so sorry for her and so ashamed to have seen into her sorrow that I was really glad next morning when I heard Mr. Beeler’s cheerful voice calling, “All aboard!”

We had just finished breakfast, and few would ever guess that Mrs. D——­ knew a trial; she was so cheerful and so cordial as she bade us good-bye and urged us to stop with her every time we passed through.

About noon that day we reached the railroad.  The snow had delayed the train farther north, so for once we were glad to have to wait for a train, as it gave us time to get a bite to eat and to wash up a bit.  It was not long, however, till we were comfortably seated in the train.  I think a train ride might not be so enjoyable to most, but to us it was a delight; I even enjoyed looking at the Negro porter, although I suspect he expected to be called Mister.  I found very soon after coming West that I must not say “Uncle” or “Aunty” as I used to at home.

It was not long until they called the name of the town at which we wanted to stop.  Mrs. O’Shaughnessy had a few acquaintances there, but we went to a hotel.  We were both tired, so as soon as we had supper we went to bed.  The house we stopped at was warmer and more comfortable than the average hotel in the West, but the partitions were very thin, so when a couple of “punchers,” otherwise cowboys, took the room next to ours, we could hear every word they said.