had started out actually to purchase a tract of lumber, he would
certainly consider that you had established a prior claim upon the
property."

"Your father's name is Theophilus Stevens, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Humph!" said Sam, but he did not explain that exclamation, nor was he
asked to explain. Miss Stevens had been deeply wounded by the assault
upon her father's business morality, and she desired to hear no further
elaboration of the insult.

She was glad that they were drawing up now to the porch, glad this
ride, with its many disagreeable features, was over, although she
carefully gathered up her bright-berried branches, which were not half
so much withered as she had expected them to be, and held her geranium
slips cautiously as she alighted.

Her father came out to the edge of the porch to meet them. He paid no
attention to his daughter.

"Well, Sam Turner," said Mr. Stevens, stroking his aggressive beard, "I
hear you got it, confound you! What do you want for your lumber
contract?"

"Just the advance of this morning's quotations," replied Sam.
"Princeman tell you I was after it?"

"No, not at first," said Stevens. "I received a telegram about that
grove just an hour ago, from my partner. Princeman was with me when
the telegram came, and he told me then that you had just gone out on
the trail. I did my best to get Gifford by 'phone before you could
reach him."

"Father!" exclaimed Miss Josephine.

"What's the matter, Jo?"

"You say you actually tried to--to get in ahead of Mr. Turner in buying
this lumber, knowing that he was going down there purposely for it?"

"Why, certainly," admitted her father.

"But did you know that I was with Mr. Turner?"

"_Why, certainly_!"

"Father!" was all she could gasp, and without deigning to say good-by
to Mr. Turner, or to thank him for the ride or the bouquet of branches
or even the geranium slips which she had received under false
pretenses, she hurried away to her room, oppressed with Heaven only
knows what mortification, and also with what wonder at the ways of men!

However, Princeman and Billy Westlake and young Hollis with the curly
hair were impatiently waiting for Miss Josephine at the tennis court,
as they informed her in a jointly signed note sent up to her by a boy,
and hastily removing the dust of the road she ran down to join them.
As she went across the lawn, tennis bat in hand, Sam Turner, discussing
lumber with Mr. Stevens, saw her a