y women said, "that a man who's done's much good's the ol' Doctor
shouldn' have better luck with his boy."

Sydney flushed as Bob ran unevenly along the path to take her from the
saddle. Her experiences seemed to be like history this morning. A
little sigh escaped her as she looked about for the Doctor, and then
resigned herself to be lifted down by Bob's strong and eager, though
shaking, hands.

To him her manner was quite the reverse of her attitude towards the
other victim of a weak will from whom she just had parted. If to
Yarebrough she was straightforward, to this man she was diplomatic. If
to Bud she was Mentor, to Bob she was Telemachus. If Bud stared at her
in puzzled surprise at her "always finding out," Bob exerted himself to
appear before her a man on whom she could rely, because he was sure
that she never had thought of him otherwise.

"Yes, it is a lovely day," she replied, in answer to his salutation.
"Is your mother at home? And what in the world is the matter with your
face?"

He was holding open the gate for her to pass, and she saw that it would
be absurd any longer to ignore his appearance.

"The calf got mixed up in the rose-bush, and while I was getting him
out he kicked me," explained Bob, glibly, shamelessly loading upon the
back of a tiny and unoffending little bull-calf nibbling in front of
the door the burden of his scratched and bruise-stained countenance.

Sydney averted her eyes as he told this unblushing lie, and sighed
again as she thought of the poor mother, for she knew how long a
Carolinian can stay on a horse, and that Bob must have been bad,
indeed, to have rolled off, as it was evident that he had done.

"You must let me do it up for you," she said. "Go and get me the
witch-hazel and something for a bandage."

She sat and waited for him in the living-room, where modern taste had
made use of the blue-and-white homespun coverlets of the Doctor's
grandmother as door curtains and couch covers. She noticed the kettle
swung over the fire from the same crane that had balanced its burden
thus for a hundred years, and she listened to Bob knocking about
up-stairs in the room over her head.

"Now, sit down," she cried, when he returned. "You're so dreadfully
tall. Towels! That won't do at all! Here, I'll wet my handkerchief and
put that on first."

"May I keep it?"

Bob's good eye twinkled merrily, and what was visible of the other
showed some amusement.

"Of course not. You'll