ce. He might have been a stick or stone under
his master's abuse. But he was not a stick or a stone. It seemed too
that suddenly his soul expanded. No man had ever called him a fool, and
he had worn a decoration in France. He knew what he was going to do. And
for the first time in many months he felt himself a free man.

George's decision to have Kemp meet Madge had been founded on the
realization that it would be unbearably awkward if he should pass Becky
on the road. She had sent back his pendant without a word, and there was
no telling how she was taking it. If the thing were ever renewed--and
his mind dwelt daringly on that possibility, explanations would be
easy--but he couldn't make explanation if she saw him first in a car
with another woman.

It was thus that Madge, arriving on the noon train, found Kemp waiting
for her. Kemp was very fond of Miss MacVeigh. She was not a snob and
there were so many snobs among Dalton's friends. She talked to him as if
he were a man and not a mechanical toy. Dalton, on the other hand,
treated his valet as if he were a marionette to be pulled by strings, an
organ controlled by stops, or a typewriter operated by keys.

Major Prime had come down on the same train. Randy, driving Little
Sister, was there to meet him.

"It is good to get back," the Major said. "I've been homesick."

"We missed you a lot. Yesterday we had a barbecue, and you should have
been here----"

"I wanted to be, Randy. I hope you are not going to turn me out with the
rest of the boarders when you roll in affluence."

"Affluence, nothing--but I sold two cars yesterday----"

"Not bad for a poet."

"It is a funny sort of game," said Randy soberly; "all day I run around
in this funny little car, and at night I think big thoughts and try to
put them on paper."

He could not tell the Major that the night before his thoughts had not
been the kind to put on paper. He had been in a white fury. He knew that
if he met Dalton nothing could keep him from knocking him down. He felt
that a stake and burning fagots would be the proper thing, but, failing
that, fists would do. Yet, there was Becky's name to be considered.
Revenge, if he took it, must be a subtle thing--his mind had worked on
it in the darkness of the night.

Kemp was helping Madge into the Waterman car. "Who is she?" the Major
asked. "She came down on my train."

"Miss MacVeigh. Mrs. Waterman is very ill. There is to be an operation
at once."

"