is eyes noted for an instant significantly her sombre riding costume,
then sought her eyes with an expression of simple and friendly
sympathy. The tears came to her eyes, and she turned her face away.
She for the first time had a sense of loss, a moving memory of her
father's goodness to her, of an element of tenderness that had passed
out of her life forever. And she felt abjectly ashamed--ashamed of her
relief at the lifting of the burden of his long struggle against death,
ashamed of her miserable wranglings with Martha and Billy's wife,
ashamed of her forgetfulness of her father in the exultation over her
wealth, ashamed of the elaborately fashionable mourning she was
wearing--and of the black horse she had bought to match. She hoped he
would not observe these last flauntings of the purely formal character
of a grief that was being utilized to make a display of fashionableness.

"You always bring out the best there is in me," said she.

He stood silently before her--not in embarrassment, for he was rarely
self-conscious enough to be embarrassed, but refraining from speech
simply because there was nothing to say.

"I haven't heard any of the details of the election," she went on.
"Did you come out as well as you hoped?"

"Better," said he. "As a result of the election the membership of the
League has already a little more than doubled. We could have quadrupled
it, but we are somewhat strict in our requirements. We want only those
who will stay members as long as they stay citizens of Remsen City.
But I must go on to Charlton or he'll be out on his rounds."

She caught his glance, which was inclined to avoid hers. She gave him
a pleading look. "I'll walk with you part of the way," she said.

He seemed to be searching for an excuse to get away. Whether because
he failed to find it or because he changed his mind, he said: "You'll
not mind going at a good gait?"

"I'll ride," said she. "It's not comfortable, walking fast in these
boots."

He stood by to help her, but let her get into the saddle alone. She
smiled down at him with a little coquetry. "Are you afraid to touch
me--to-day?" she asked.

He laughed: "The bird IS merely an excuse," he admitted. "I've got
back my self-control, and I purpose to keep it."

She flushed angrily. His frankness now seemed to her to be flavored
with impertinent assurance. "That's amusing," said she, with an
unpleasant smile. "You have an extraordinary opinion of