arth, and she
watched him down the road toward the mountain in the evening light and
marveled how her trust had grown since first she met him; marveled and
reflected that she had not told her mother and father much about him
yet. It was growing time to do so; yes--_it was growing time_! Her
cheeks grew pink in the darkness and she turned and fled to her room.

That was the last time she saw him before the play.

CHAPTER XXIII

The play was set for Tuesday. Monday afternoon and evening were to be
the final rehearsals, but Gardley did not come to them. Fiddling Boss
came late and said the men had been off all day and had not yet
returned. He himself found it hard to come at all. They had important
work on. But there was no word from Gardley.

Margaret was disappointed. She couldn't get away from it. Of course they
could go on with the rehearsal without him. He had done his work well,
and there was no real reason why he had to be there. He knew every part
by heart, and could take any boy's place if any one failed in any way.
There was nothing further really for him to do until the performance, as
far as that was concerned, except be there and encourage her. But she
missed him, and an uneasiness grew in her mind. She had so looked
forward to seeing him, and now to have no word! He might at least have
sent her a note when he found he could not come.

Still she knew this was unreasonable. His work, whatever it was--he had
never explained it very thoroughly to her, perhaps because she had never
asked--must, of course, have kept him. She must excuse him without
question and go on with the business of the hour.

Her hands were full enough, for Forsythe came presently and was more
trying than usual. She had to be very decided and put her foot down
about one or two things, or some of her actors would have gone home in
the sulks, and Fiddling Boss, whose part in the program meant much to
him, would have given it up entirely.

She hurried everything through as soon as possible, knowing she was
weary, and longing to get to her room and rest. Gardley would come and
explain to-morrow, likely in the morning on his way somewhere.

But the morning came and no word. Afternoon came and he had not sent a
sign yet. Some of the little things that he had promised to do about the
setting of the stage would have to remain undone, for it was too late
now to do it herself, and there was no one else to call upon.

Into the midst of