heet of
note-paper into thin ribbons. He turned to Jeff. "Mr. Charley won't be
home until late," he said.

"Then I 'low yo' want yo' supper now, Sar?" But Carrington shook his
head.

"No, you needn't bother, Jeff," he said, as he turned toward the stairs.

Ten minutes later and he had got together his belongings and was ready
to quit Thicket Point. He retraced his steps to the floor below. In
the hall he paused and glanced about him. He seemed to feel her
presence--and very near--to-morrow she would enter there as Norton's
wife. With his pack under his arm he entered the dining-room in search
of Jeff.

"Tell your master I have gone to Memphis," he said briefly.

"Ain't yo' goin' to have a hoss, Mas'r Carrington?" demanded Jeff in
some surprise. He had come to regard the Kentuckian as a fixture.

"No," said Carrington. "Good-by, Jeff," he added, turning away.

But when he left Thicket Point he did not take the Memphis road, but
the road to Belle Plain. Walking rapidly, he reached the entrance to
the lane within the hour. Here he paused irresolutely, it was as if the
force of his purpose had already spent itself. Then he tossed his pack
into a fence corner and kept on toward the house.

CHAPTER XXII. AT THE CHURCH DOOR

There was the patter of small feet beyond Betty's door, and little
Steve, who looked more like a nice fat black Cupid than anything else,
rapped softly; at the same time he effected to squint through the
keyhole.

"Supper served, Missy," he announced, then he turned no less than seven
handsprings in the upper hall and slid down the balustrade to the floor
below. He was far from being a model house servant.

His descent was witnessed by the butler. Now in his own youth big Steve
with as fair a field had cut similar capers, yet he was impelled by his
sense of duty to do for his grandson what his own father had so often
done for him, and in no perfunctory manner. It was only the sound of
Betty's door opening and closing that stayed his hand as he was making
choice of a soft and vulnerable spot to which he should apply it. Little
Steve slid under the outstretched arm that menaced him and fled to the
dining-room.

Betty came slowly down the stairs. Four hours since Jeff had ridden away
with the letter. Already there had come to her moments when, she would
have given much could she have recalled it, when she knew with dread
certainty that whatever her feeling for Charley, it was not love;