itself, they
discussed and rejected.

"One thing we can depend upon," said Brian, at last, when they had
exhausted the resources of their combined imaginations: "Auntie Sue
knows exactly what she is doing, and she is doing exactly the right
thing. I suppose we will know all about it when she returns."

Betty Jo looked again at the note: "'I will be back in a few days,'" she
read slowly. "'Be good children, and take care of things.'"

Again, they regarded each other wonderingly.

Then Betty Jo broke the silence with an odd little laugh: "I feel like
we were cast away on some desert island, don't you?"

"Something like that," Brian returned. Then, to relieve the strain of
the situation, he added: "I suppose 'Bess' will have to be milked and
the chores finished just the same."

"And I'll get breakfast for us," agreed Betty Jo, as he started back to
the barn.

In the safe seclusion of the stable, with no one but "Old Prince" and
"Bess" to witness his agitation, Brian endeavored to bring his confused
and unruly thoughts under some sort of control.

"Several days; several days." The words repeated themselves with
annoying persistency. And they--Betty Jo and he, Brian Kent--were to
"take care of things";--they were to keep house together;--they were to
live together, alone,--in the log house by the river,--alone. She was
even then preparing their breakfast. They would sit down at the table
alone. And there would be dinner and supper; and the evening,--just for
them. He would work about the place. She would attend to her household
duties. He would go to his meals, and she would be there expecting
him,--waiting for him. And when the tasks of the day were finished, they
would sit on the porch to watch the coming of the night,--Betty Jo
and he, Brian Kent--"What in God's name," the man demanded of the
indifferent "Bess," did Auntie Sue mean by placing him in such a
situation? Did she think him more than human?

It had not been easy for Brian to maintain that barrier between himself
and Betty Jo, even with the constant help of Auntie Sue's presence.
Many, many times he had barely saved himself from declaring his
love; and, now, he was asked to live with her in the most intimate
companionship possible.

For the only time in his life Brian Kent was almost angry at Auntie Sue.
"By all that was consistent, and reasonable, and merciful, and safe," he
told himself, "if it was absolutely necessary for the dear old lady to
dis