me one all about it."

"No, thanks, friend Prue," said Alice cheerfully. "I'm not what you
might call a 'free agent.' There is a young man, to wit, a certain
Robb, who might object. Besides, I have not turned poacher yet."

"What on earth do you mean?"

Prudence turned a pair of astonished brown eyes on her companion.
Alice didn't answer, and the two looked squarely into each other's
faces. The elder girl read the meaning which Alice did not attempt to
conceal, and a warm flush mounted quickly and suffused her sun-tanned
face.

Then followed a long silence, and the crackling of the pine-cones
beneath the horses' feet alone aroused the echoes of the woods.
Prudence was thinking deeply. A thoughtful pucker marred the perfect
arch of her brows, and her half-veiled eyes were turned upon her
horse's mane.

George Iredale. What of him? He seemed so to have grown into her life
of late that she would now scarcely recognize Loon Dyke Farm without
him. This sudden reminder made her look back over the days since her
return from "down East," and she realized that George, since that
time, had literally formed part of her life. He was always in her
thoughts in some way or other. Every one on the farm spoke of him as
if he belonged to it. Hardly a day passed but what some portion of it
was spent by him in her company. His absence was only when his
business took him elsewhere.

And what was the meaning of it all? What was he to her that her friend
should talk of "poaching" when regarding her own intercourse with this
man? Prudence's face grew hotter. The awakening had come. At that
moment she knew that George Iredale was a good deal to her, and she
felt a certain maidenly shame at the discovery. He had never uttered
a word of love to her--not one, in all the years she had known him,
and, unbidden, she had given him her love. In those first moments of
realization her heart was filled with something like dismay which was
not wholly without a feeling of joy. She felt herself flushing under
the thoughts conjured by her friend's implication, and her feelings
became worse as Alice went on.

"Ah, Prue, you can't hide these things from me. I have always intended
to say something, but you are such an austere person that I was afraid
of getting a snub. Mr. Iredale is a charming man, and--well--I hope
when it comes off you'll be very, very happy."

"Don't be absurd, Alice." Prudence had recovered herself now.

"My dear Prue," the girl