s courage
to the point of confronting the girl.

He succeeded finally, and walked slowly to the outside kitchen door,
where he stood, looking in at Mary.

The girl was working over the stove, from which, floating to the
doorway where Sanderson stood, came various delicious odors.

Mary was arrayed in a neat-fitting house dress of some soft print
material, with a huge apron over it. Her sleeves were rolled slightly
above the elbows; her face was flushed, and when she turned and saw
Sanderson her eyes grew very bright.

"Oh," she said; "you are up! I was just thinking of calling you!" She
ran to him, threw her arms around him, and, in spite of his efforts to
evade her, she kissed him first on one cheek and then on the other.

Noting his reluctance she stepped back and looked reprovingly at him.

"You seem so distant, Will. And I am so glad to see you!"

"I ain't used to bein' kissed, I expect."

"But--by your sister!"

He reddened. "I ain't seen you for a long time, you know. Give me
time, an' mebbe I'll get used to it."

"I hope so," she smiled. "I should feel lost if I could not kiss my
brother. You have washed, too!" she added, noting his glowing face and
his freshly combed hair.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Mary!" she corrected.

"Mary," grinned Sanderson.

Mary turned to the stove. "You go out and find a chair on the porch,"
she directed, over her shoulder. "I'll have supper ready in a jiffy.
It's too hot for you in here."

Sanderson obeyed. From the deeply crimson hue of his face it was
apparent that the heat of the kitchen had affected him. That, at
least, must have been the reason Mary had ordered him away. His face
_felt_ hot.

He found a chair on the porch, and he sank into it, feeling like a
criminal. There was a certain humor in the situation. Sanderson felt
it, but could not appreciate it, and he sat, hunched forward, staring
glumly into the dusk that had settled over the basin.

He had been sitting on the porch for some minutes when he became aware
of a figure near him, and he turned slowly to see the little, anemic
man standing not far away.

"Cooling off?" suggested the little man.

Sanderson straightened. "How in hell do you know I'm hot?" he demanded
gruffly.

The little man grinned. "There's signs. Your face looks like you'd
had it in an oven. Now, don't lose your temper; I didn't mean to
offend you."

The little man's voice was placative; his manner gravely ingratiati