of work than a baby.  But I had an education at the convent at New Orleans, and could play, and speak French, and I got a place as school-teacher here; I reckon the first Southern woman that has taught school in the No’th!  Ricketts, who used to be our steward at Bayou Sara, told me about the pickaninnies, and how helpless they were, with only a brother who occasionally sent them money from California.  I suppose I cottoned to the pooh little things at first because I knew what it was to be alone amongst strangers, Mr. Lasham; I used to teach them at odd times, and look after them, and go with them to the train to look for you.  Perhaps Ricketts made me think you didn’t care for them; perhaps I was wrong in thinking it was true, from the way you met Jimmy just now.  But I’ve spoken my mind and you know why.”  She ceased and walked to the window.

Falloner rose.  The storm that had swept through him was over.  The quick determination, resolute purpose, and infinite patience which had made him what he was were all there, and with it a conscientiousness which his selfish independence had hitherto kept dormant.  He accepted the situation, not passively—­it was not in his nature—­but threw himself into it with all his energy.

“You were quite right,” he said, halting a moment beside her; “I don’t blame you, and let me hope that later you may think me less to blame than you do now.  Now, what’s to be done?  Clearly, I’ve first to make it right with Tommy—­I mean Jimmy—­and then we must make a straight dash over to the girl!  Whoop!” Before she could understand from his face the strange change in his voice, he had dashed out of the room.  In a moment he reappeared with the boy struggling in his arms.  “Think of the little scamp not knowing his own brother!” he laughed, giving the boy a really affectionate, if slightly exaggerated hug, “and expecting me to open my arms to the first little boy who jumps into them!  I’ve a great mind not to give him the present I fetched all the way from California.  Wait a moment.”  He dashed into the bedroom, opened his valise—­where he providentially remembered he had kept, with a miner’s superstition, the first little nugget of gold he had ever found—­seized the tiny bit of quartz of gold, and dashed out again to display it before Jimmy’s eager eyes.

If the heartiness, sympathy, and charming kindness of the man’s whole manner and face convinced, even while it slightly startled, the young girl, it was still more effective with the boy.  Children are quick to detect the false ring of affected emotion, and Bob’s was so genuine—­whatever its cause—­that it might have easily passed for a fraternal expression with harder critics.  The child trustfully nestled against him and would have grasped the gold, but the young man whisked it into his pocket.  “Not until we’ve shown it to our little sister—­where we’re going now!  I’m off to order a sleigh.”  He dashed out again to the office as if he found some relief in action, or, as it seemed to Miss Boutelle, to avoid embarrassing conversation.  When he came back again he was carrying an immense bearskin from his luggage.  He cast a critical look at the girl’s unseasonable attire.