passed on. Marian
turned her head and caught the signal, looked at Bud quickly, a little
flush creeping into her cheeks.

"I hope you have a little imagination," she said, lowering her voice
instinctively. "It doesn't require much to see that Jerry is right. The
conventions are strictly observed at Little Lost--in the kitchen, at
least," she added, under her breath, with a flash of resentment. "Run
along--and the next time Honey asks you to play the piano, will you
please play Lotusblume? And when you have thrown open the prison windows
with that, will you play Schubert's Ave Maria--the way you play it--to
send a breath of cool night air in?"

She put out the tips of her fingers and pressed them lightly against
Bud's shoulder, turning toward the door. Bud started, stepped into the
kitchen, wheeled about and stood regarding her with a stubborn look in
his eyes.

"I might kick the door down, too," he said. "I don't like prisons
nohow."

"No-just a window, thank you," she laughed.

Bud thought the laugh did not go very deep. "Jerry wants to talk to
you. He's the whitest of the lot, if you can call that--" she stopped
abruptly, put out a hand to the door, gave him a moment to look into her
deep, troubled eyes, and closed the door gently but inexorably in his
face.

Jerry was standing at the corner of the house smoking negligently. He
waited until Bud had come close alongside him, then led the way slowly
down the path to the corrals.

"I thought I heard the horses fighting," he remarked. "There was a noise
down this way."

"Is that why you called me outside?" asked Bud, who scorned subterfuge.

"Yeah. I saw you wasn't dancing or singing or playing the piano--and
I knew Honey'd likely be looking you up to do one or the other, in a
minute. She sure likes you, Bud. She don't, everybody that comes along."

Bud did not want to discuss Honey, wherefore he made no reply, and they
walked along in silence, the cool, heavy darkness grateful after the oil
lamps and the heat of crowded rooms. As they neared the corrals a stable
door creaked open and shut, yet there was no wind. Jerry halted, one
hand going to Bud's arm. They stood for a minute, and heard the swish of
the bushes behind the corral, as if a horse were passing through. Jerry
turned back, leading Bud by the arm. They were fifty feet away and the
bushes were still again before Jerry spoke guardedly.

"I guess I made a mistake. There wasn't nothing," he said, and