up on the other side of the lake, and get there almost
as soon as you do--let me help you into your buggy. And drive right on
home, and don't worry."

He had put on his hat, and they stood on the sidewalk together.

Idy made a little impulsive stoop toward him, as if she would have taken
him in her arms.

"Oh!" she gasped, her eyes swimming, and her chin working painfully; "I
just think you're the very best man I ever saw in all my life!"

A moment later she saw him driving a tall black horse toward the lake at
a speed that brought her the first sigh of relief she had known, and
made her put up her hand suddenly to her forehead.

"Good gracious me!" she exclaimed under her breath--"if I didn't forget
to take down my crimps!"

Two or three times as she drove home through the warm odors of the
harvest noon her anxiety was invaded by the recollection of this man, to
whose promptness and decision her own vigorous nature responded with a
strong sense of liking; and this liking did not suffer any abatement
when he came into her father's sick-room with the doctor, and the
invalid looked at the stranger, and then at her, with a faint, troubled
smile.

"Don't try to speak, Mr. Starkweather," said the visitor cheerfully;
"I've made your daughter's acquaintance already. We want you to give
your entire attention to getting well, and let us do the talking."

He went out of the room, and strolled about the place while the doctor
made his call, and when it was over he went around to the kitchen, where
Idy was kindling a fire, and said:--

"Doctor Patterson thinks your father will be all right in a day or so,
Miss Starkweather. Be careful to keep him quiet. I'm going to drive
around to the station, so the doctor can catch the evening train, and
save my driving him down to Maravilla; and I'll go on over to Elsmore
and get this prescription filled, and bring the medicine back to you. Is
there anything else you'd like from town--a piece of meat to make
beef-tea, or anything?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind much if you _would_ bring me a piece of beef,"
said Idy, pausing with a stick of redwood kindling across her knee. Then
she dropped it, and came forward. "We're _ever_ so much obliged to
ye--pappy 'n' all of us. Seem 's if you always turn up. I think you've
been just awful good and kind--an' us strangers, too."

"Oh, you're not strangers," laughed the young man, lifting his hat;
"I've known your father ever since he came."

He