eral principles," Lite
remonstrated. "You can't tell; it's away off from everywhere."

"I won't have Hepsy Atwood. Haven't I enough to drive me mad, without
her?"

"Is there anybody else that you'd rather have?" Lite looked at her
speculatively.

"No, there isn't. I won't have anybody. It would be a nuisance having
some old lady in the house gabbling and gossiping. I'm not the least
bit afraid, except,--I'm not afraid, and I like to be alone. I won't
have her, Lite."

Lite said no more about it until they reached the house, huddled
lonesomely against the barren bluff, its windows staring black into the
dusk. Jean did not seem to expect Lite to dismount, but he did not
wait to see what she expected him to do. In his most matter-of-fact
manner he dismounted and turned his horse, still saddled, into the
stable with Pard. He preceded Jean up the path, and went into the
kitchen ahead of her; lighted a match and found the lamp, and set its
flame to brightening the dingy room.

Jean had not done much in the way of making that part of the house more
attractive. She used the kitchen to cook in, because the stove was
there, and the dishes. She had spread an old braided rug over the
brown stain on the floor, and she ate in her own room with the door
shut.

Without being told, Lite seemed to know all about her secret aversion
to the kitchen. He took up the lamp and went now on a tour of
inspection through the house. Jean followed him, wondering a little,
and thinking that this was the way that mysterious stranger came and
prowled at night, except that he must have used matches to light the
way, or a candle, since the lamp seemed never to be disturbed. Lite
went into all the rooms and held the lamp so that its brightness
searched out all the corners. He looked into the small, stuffy
closets. He stood in the middle of her father's room and seemed to
meditate deeply, while Jean stood in the doorway and watched him
inquiringly. He came back finally to the kitchen and looked into the
cupboard, as though he was taking an inventory of her supply of
provisions.

"You might cook me some supper, Jean," he said, when he had put the
lamp on the table. "I see you've got eggs and bacon. I'm pretty
hungry,--for a man that had his dinner six or seven hours ago."

Jean cooked supper, and they ate together in the kitchen. It did not
seem so gruesome with Lite there, and she told him some funny things
that had happened