wise for us to--to get married at once?"

Lucy blushed furiously. "Pan Smith! Are you crazy?"

"Reckon I am," he replied, ruefully. "But I got to thinking how I'll
be out after wild horses.... And I'm afraid something might happen.
Please marry me this afternoon?"

"Pan! You're--you're terrible," cried Lucy, and snatching away her
hand, scarlet of face she rushed into the house ahead of him.

He followed, to find Lucy gone. His father was smiling, and his mother
had wide-open hopeful eyes. A slim young girl, with freckles, grave
sweet eyes and curly hair was standing by a window. She turned and
devoured him with those shy eyes. From that look he knew who she was.

"Alice! Little sister!" he exclaimed, meeting her. "Well, by golly,
this is great."

It did not take long for Pan to grasp that a subtle change had come
over his mother and father. Not the excitement of his presence nor the
wonder about Lucy accounted for it, but a difference, a lessening of
strain, a relief. Pan sensed a reliance upon him that they were not
yet conscious of.

"Son, what was the matter with Lucy?" inquired his father, shrewdly.

"Why nothing to speak of," replied Pan, nonchalantly. "Reckon she was
a little flustered because I wanted her to marry me this afternoon."

"Good gracious!" cried his mother. "You are a cowboy. Lucy marry you
when she's engaged to another man!"

"Mother, dear, that's broken off. Don't remind me of it. I want to
look pleasant, so you'll all be glad I'm home."

"Glad!" his mother laughed, with a catch in her voice. "My prayers
have been answered.... Come now to dinner. Remember, Pan, when you
used to yell, 'Come an' get it before I throw it out'?"

Bobby left Pan's knee and made a beeline for the kitchen. Alice raced
after him.

"Pan, I met Dick Hardman on the road. He looked like hell, and was
sure punishin' his horse. I said when I seen him I'd bet he's run into
Pan. How about it?"

"Reckon he did," laughed Pan. "It was pretty tough on him, I'm bound
to admit. He rode down the path and caught me--well, the truth is,
Dad, I was kissing the young lady he imagined belonged to him."

"You range ridin' son-of-a-gun!" ejaculated his father, in unmitigated
admiration and gladness. "What come off?"

"I'll tell you after dinner. Gee, I smell applesauce! ... Dad, I
never forgot Mother's cooking."

They went into the little whitewashed kitchen, where Pan had to stoop
to avoid the