life, and he could not blame
her for rebelling against it from time to time. Her remarks had been
born of the rebellion; they had meant nothing in themselves. He could
not doubt for a moment her loyalty to the family.

But he did not tell her so. That is not the way of men of his stamp.
Rather he cast about to see what he could do.

Injin Charley had, during the winter just past, occupied odd moments in
embroidering with beads and porcupine quills a wonderful outfit of
soft buckskin gauntlets, a shirt of the same material, and moccasins of
moose-hide. They were beautifully worked, and Thorpe, on receiving them,
had at once conceived the idea of giving them to his sister. To this end
he had consulted another Indian near Marquette, to whom he had confided
the task of reducing the gloves and moccasins. The shirt would do as it
was, for it was intended to be worn as a sort of belted blouse. As has
been said, all were thickly beaded, and represented a vast quantity of
work. Probably fifty dollars could not have bought them, even in the
north country.

Thorpe tendered this as a peace offering. Not understanding women in the
least, he was surprised to see his gift received by a burst of tears and
a sudden exit from the room. Helen thought he had bought the things;
and she was still sore from the pinch of the poverty she had touched
the evening before. Nothing will exasperate a woman more than to be
presented with something expensive for which she does not particularly
care, after being denied, on the ground of economy, something she wants
very much.

Thorpe stared after her in hurt astonishment. Mrs. Renwick sniffed.

That afternoon the latter estimable lady attempted to reprove Miss
Helen, and was snubbed; she persisted, and an open quarrel ensued.

"I will not be dictated to by you, Mrs. Renwick," said Helen, "and I
don't intend to have you interfere in any way with my family affairs."

"They won't stand MUCH investigation," replied Mrs. Renwick, goaded out
of her placidity.

Thorpe entered to hear the last two speeches. He said nothing, but that
night he wrote to Wallace Carpenter for a thousand dollars. Every stroke
of the pen hurt him. But of course Helen could not stay here now.

"And to think, just to THINK that he let that woman insult me so, and
didn't say a word!" cried Helen to herself.

Her method would have been to have acted irrevocably on the spot, and
sought ways and means afterwards. Thorpe's, howe