think there's the makings of a good woman in me?"

"Yes; I think so," he answered earnestly, "and if there's but a spark of
goodness in you, she will find it and fan it to a glow."

She made a wry little grimace which fortunately he did not see.

"This goodness is nauseating me," she thought. "I shall beat it back about
to-morrow."

"Look!" he cried, as the road made a sharp curve. "There it is!"

"You can lift your eyes to the hills! What a love of a place--way up on
tiptoes. I'll be the little fish out of water up there!"

Top Hill Tavern was on a small plateau at the summit of one of the hills.
The ranch-house, long, low and fanciful in design, connected by a covered
portico with the kitchen, dairies and buildings, was misleading in name,
for a succession of higher hills was in sight. A vined pergola, flower
gardens, swings, tennis courts and croquet grounds gave the place a most
unranch-like appearance.

As they rode up to the entrance porch, a woman came out of the house, and
instantly the big, appraising eyes of the little newcomer felt that here
was a type unknown to her. She was slender, not very tall, but with a
poise and dignity of manner that compelled attention. Her eyes were gray;
her lashes, brows and hair quite dark. There was a serenity and repose of
manner about her--the Madonna expression of gentleness--but with an added
force.

"We looked for you last night, Kurt," she said in a voice, low and
winning.

"Ran out of gasoline and had to spend the night on the road," he
explained. "Mrs. Kingdon, this is a little girl--"

She didn't give him the opportunity to finish.

"Come in out of the sun," she urged.

Pen stepped from the car. There was no consciousness in the beautiful eyes
of the "best woman in the world" that she was aware of the shabby, tan
shoes, the cheap, faded and worn skirt, or the man's sweater and cap.

Pen's eyes had grown dark and thoughtful.

"Before I go in," she said turning to Kurt, "you must tell her who I am.
Not what you said you were going to tell her, but where you found me and
from what you saved me."

His face flushed.

"My dear little girl," said the woman quickly, "I don't care to know--yet.
It is enough that Kurt brought you."

"Mrs. Kingdon," said Kurt awkwardly but earnestly, "she is a poor girl who
needs a friend."

"We all need a friend some time or other. Come in with me."

She led her up the steps. On the top one, the girl halted.

"He found