ing meal
with more than usual speed.

Going to the door to call Peter Rockett, she was surprised to see Rance
Belmont, with his splendid sorrel pacer, drive into the yard. He came
into the house a few minutes afterwards and seemed to be making
preparations to stay for supper.

A sudden resolve was formed in Mrs. Corbett's mind as she watched him
hanging up his coat and making a careful toilet at the square looking-
glass which hung over the oilcloth-covered soap box on which stood the
wash-basin and soap saucer. She called to him to come into the pantry,
and while she hurriedly peeled the potatoes she plunged at once into
the subject.

"Rance," she began, "you go to see Mrs. Brydon far too often, and
people are talking about it."

Rance shrugged his shoulders.

"Now, don't tell me you don't care, or that it's none of my business,
though that may be true."

"I would never be so lacking in politeness, however true it might be!"
he answered, rolling a cigarette.

Mrs. Corbett looked at him a minute, then she broke out, "Oh, but you
are the smooth-tongued gent!--you'd coax the birds off the bushes; but
I want to tell you that you are not doing right hanging around Mrs.
Brydon the way you do."

"Does she object?" he asked, in the same even tone, as he slowly struck
a match on the sole of his boot.

"She's an innocent little lamb," Mrs. Corbett cried, "and she's lonely
and homesick, and you've taken advantage of it. That poor lamb can't
stand the prairie like us old pelters that's weatherbeaten and gray and
toughened--she ain't made for it--she was intended for diamond rings
and drawing-rooms, and silks and satins."

Rance Belmont looked at her, still smiling his inexplicable smile.

"I can supply them better than she is getting them now," he said.

Mrs. Corbett gave an exclamation of surprise.

"But she's a married woman," she cried, "and a good woman, and what are
you, Rance? Sure you're no mate for any honest woman, you blackhearted,
smooth-tongued divil!" Mrs. Corbett's Irish temper was mounting higher
and higher, and two red spots burned in her cheeks. "You know as well
as I do that there's no happiness for any woman that goes wrong. That
woman must stand by her man, and he's a good fellow, Fred is; such a
fine, clean, honest lad, he never suspects anyone of being a crook or
meanin' harm. Why can't you go off and leave them alone, Rance? They
were doin' fine before you came along. Do one good turn, Rance