sinking off to sleep he had an idea he was praying,
perhaps to God; or was it to Old Crow? At any rate, he was saying:

"For God's sake look out for Nan. You don't need to make it so devilish
hard for Nan."

He was downstairs early. At the foot of the stairs stood Charlotte,
waiting. She looked--what? compassionate?

"She's gone," said Charlotte. "Jerry was up 'fore light."

"Gone?" echoed Raven. "At this time of day? What for? She'll have an
hour to wait."

"She would have it so," said Charlotte. "She was terrible anxious to git
off."

So, Raven thought, she didn't want to see either of them. She was tired
of them, of him with his stiff withdrawals and Dick's young puppyhood.
He ran upstairs, snatched some old riding breeches out of a closet, put
them on and, without a word to Charlotte, went to the barn. But her eye
was on him and she called out of the shed door:

"You took your saddle with you. Don't you know you did? There's nothin'
but your father's hangin' there, old as the hills."

Raven did not answer, or even turn his head. He went into the harness
room, found the old saddle hanging in its place, led out Nellie,
surprised at being expected to leave her oats, saddled her and rode
away. He was angry, with Nan, with all the childish trouble of the
business, and--as two neighbors agreed, seeing him gallop past--rode
like the devil, yet not coming upon Nan and Jerry until they were at the
station platform. Nan saw him first. She was gloriously glad, waving her
hand and laughing out. Jerry stood with mouth open, silent but
incurious, and Raven dismounted and threw him the reins.

"Hitch her behind," he said. "I'll go back with you. Got something extra
to blanket her?"

He came up to Nan, and they took hands and went into the waiting room
together. It was steaming hot from the monster stove and they retreated
again to the platform.

"Come out and walk," said Raven, "up to Pine Grove. You've got an hour,
you little simpleton. What did you run away for?"

The station is in a cluster of houses, awake early every morning when
the milk goes away. But the road across the track leads up a little rise
into Pine Grove, where church and sociables have picnics, the merrier
for the neighborliness of the few trains. Raven and Nan climbed the rise
almost at a run, and when they reached the shadowing pines, looked in at
the pure spaces, remembering, for the first time, the snow would bar
them out. They must keep to t