My wife will be delighted--
Desire, my dear, permit me--Aunt, you will be glad, I'm sure--this
is Desire. Desire, this is your new Aunt."
"How do you do?" said Desire. "I have never had an Aunt before."
It was the one thing which she should have said. Had she known Aunt
Caroline for years she could not have done better. But,
unfortunately, that admirable lady did not hear it. She had heard
nothing since the shattering blow of the word "wife."
"John," she said hoarsely. "Take me away. Take me away at once!"
"Certainly," said John, "Only it's frightfully damp in the woods.
And there may be bears."
"Bears or not. I can't stay here."
"Oh, but you must," Desire came forward with innocent hospitality.
"You can sleep on my cot and I'll curl up in a blanket. I am quite
used to sleeping out."
Aunt Caroline closed her eyes. It was true then. Benis Spence had
married a squaw! Blindly she groped for the supporting hand of the
doctor. "John," she moaned, "did you hear that? Sleeping out--oh how
could he?"
"Very easily, I should think." Under the slight handicap of
assisting the drooping lady to her chair, John Rogers looked back at
Desire, standing now within the radius of the camp fire's light--and
once again he felt the strangeness as of some half-glimpsed
prophecy. "She is wonderful," he added. "Look!"
Aunt Caroline looked, shuddered, and collapsed again upon a
whispered "Indian!"
"Nonsense!" Rogers almost shook her.
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