t in calmly. "I'll reach
my destination, I think,--give me time enough."

"Whatever fool notion you've got in your head, you'd better drop it,"
Carl told her harshly. "There ain't anything you can do to better
matters. I came out with the worst of it, when you come right down to
facts, and all the nagging-"

Jean went toward him as if she would strike him with her uplifted hand.
"Don't dare say that! How can you say that,--and think of dad? He got
the worst of it. He's the one that suffers most--and--he's as innocent
as you or I. You know it."

Carl rose from the porch and faced her like an enemy. "What do you
mean by that? I know it? If I knew anything like that, do you think
I'd leave a stone unturned to prove it? Do you think--"

"I think we both know dad. And some things were not proved,--to my
satisfaction, at least. And you know how long the jury was out, and
what a time they had agreeing. Some points were weak. It was simply
that they couldn't point to any one else. You know that was it. If I
could find Art Osgood--"

"What's he got to do with it?" Her uncle leaned a little and peered
into her face, which the dusk was veiling.

"That is what I want to find out." Jean's voice was quiet, but it had
a quality which he had never before noticed.

"You'd better," he advised her tritely, "let sleeping dogs lie."

"That's the trouble with sleeping dogs; they do lie, more often than
not. These particular dogs have lied for nearly three years. I'm
going to stir them up and see if I can't get a yelp of the truth out of
them."

"Oh, you are!" Carl laughed ironically. "You'll stir up a lot of
unpleasantness for yourself and the rest of us, is what you'll do. The
thing's over and done with. Folks are beginning to forget it. You've
got a home--"

Jean laughed, and her laugh was extremely unpleasant.

"You get as good as the rest of us get," her uncle reminded her
sharply. "I came near going broke myself over the affair, if you want
to know; and you stand there and accuse me of cheating you out of
something! I don't know what in heaven's name you expect. The Lazy A
didn't make me rich, I can tell you that. It just barely helped to
tide things over. You've got a home here, and you can come and go as
you please. What you ain't got," he added bitterly, "is common
gratitude."

He turned away from her and went into the house, and Jean sat down upon
the edge of the porch and stared away a