's countenance had assumed an expression of
intense suffering. Bits of gossip arose like channel stakes in the
troubled water of his misery. Like the bits of red cloth which marked
the stakes in the bay, Susan Jane's emphasis of such gossip fluttered
wildly in this hour. Through the channel, clearly set by these signals,
was a wide course leading direct to a certain hut upon the Hills of
which silent, watchful Mark knew!

"She ain't no modil, Cap'n, don't say that!" he finally managed to get
out; "that's jest scandalous gossip."

"She told me herself!" Billy brought his tilted chair to the floor; "an'
I got t' keep this visit secret. But, since the gal ain't got no mother,
I've got t' do double duty. Knowin' how up in city ways ye are, Mark, I
thought maybe ye'd pilot me on this trip. I'm turrible clumsy with
strangers, specially women, an' I want t' do what's right."

"'T ain't--a--woman!" This declaration was wrung from Mark.

"What's that?" Billy sprang from his chair.

"Now, Markie, do be keerful!" cautioned Pa, "don't make no statement ye
can't stand by. Nation! that fat is burnin'!"

"I said, 'twarn't no woman painter as done Janet. If she has been a
modil--an' 'twere you as said that--she's been one to a man!"

The horror on Billy's face was pitiful.

"Can you locate him?" he asked in trembling tones. Mark nodded.

"Come on, then!"

In silence the two departed. Pa hardly noticed them; the burning fat
claimed his entire attention.

Mark strode ahead toward the Hills and Billy, with the swing of the
lonely patrols, brought up the rear.

It was the dining hour and Quinton was almost deserted in the hot August
noon.

"Don't let's get het up," advised Mark presently; "city folks is
powerful clever 'bout keepin' cool inside an' out."

"I'm already het!" panted Billy.

"Let's take it easier;" Mark paused in the path, and wiped his streaming
face. They did not speak again until Thornly's hut was almost at their
feet. Billy's face was grim and threatening, but Mark's showed signs of
doubt and wavering. His recollections of city calm and coolness were not
uplifting in this emergency. Folks in town had always outwitted Mark by
their calmness.

Thornly's door was set open to strangers and whatever air was stirring.
He, himself, was sitting inside, his back to his coming guests and his
eyes upon the unfinished picture upon the easel.

Remnants of a chafing-dish meal were spread upon a small table, and
si