th we call sleep until the sun of toil
should glitter above the eastern hills once more.

A few days later he decided to make an ass of himself, having been sent
with a wagon to Moss Centre, a neighbouring metropolis.

First he sent a telegram to himself at Caranay, signing it William Smith.
Then he went to the drug store telephone, and called up Caranay.

"Hello! What number, please?" came a far, sweet voice; and Marque
trembled: "No number. I want to speak to Mr. Marque--Mr. John Marque."

"He isn't here."

"Are you sure?"

"Perfectly. I saw him driving one of Mr. Willett's wagons across the
track this morning."

"Oh, that's too bad. Could I--might I--ask a little information of you?"

"Certainly."

"What sort of a fellow is this John Marque? He doesn't amount to much I
understand."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I might want to employ him, but I don't believe he is the sort of
man to trust----"

"You are mistaken!" she said crisply.

"You mean he is all right?"

"Absolutely."

"Honest?"

"Of course."

"Capable?"

"Certainly."

"Sober?"

"Perfectly."

"M-moral?"

"Unquestionably!" she said indignantly.

"Are you sure?"

"I am."

"How do you know?"

"I have means of information which I am not at liberty to disclose. Who
is this speaking?"

"William Smith of Minnow Hollow."

"Are you going to take Mr. Marque to Minnow Hollow?"

"I may."

"You can't. Mr. Willett employs him."

"Suppose I offer him better wages----"

"He is perfectly satisfied here."

"But I----"

"No! Mr. Marque does not care to leave Caranay."

"But----"

"I am sorry. It is useless to even suggest it to him. Good-bye!"

With cheeks flushed and a slightly worried expression she resumed her
sewing through the golden stillness of the afternoon. Now and then the
clank of wagon wheels crossing the metals caused her to glance swiftly
into her mirror to see what was going on behind her. And at last she saw
Marque drive up, cross the track, then, giving the reins to the boy who
sat beside him, turn and walk directly toward the station. And her heart
gave a bound.

For the first time he came directly to her window; she saw and heard him,
knew he was waiting behind the mignonette and heliotrope, and went on
serenely sewing.

"Miss Eden?"

She waited another moment--time enough to place her sewing leisurely on
the table. Then, very slowly she turned in her chair and looked at him
out of her dark lilac-hued