ia Murray was not to be ignored longer. She
hurried forward and gave both hands at the same time, one to Helen, one
to Longstreet. Howard, who held back a pace, fully occupying his own
hands with the reins of the three horses, she treated to a quick,
friendly nod. He turned away to the stable as the Longstreets and
Sanchia took chairs on the porch. Helen was cool but civil; she did
not like the woman and yet she had no sufficient cause to be downright
rude as she was inclined to be. Longstreet, on the other hand, as he
made himself comfortable, considered Sanchia Murray as nice and
friendly and pleasant.

They chatted about this, that and the other thing, all inconsequential,
and Helen had to admit that Sanchia had her charm, that she was
vivacious and clever and pretty. Helen contented herself for the most
part with a quiet 'Yes' or 'No,' and sat back and made her judgments.
In the first place, Sanchia was no woman's woman, but the type to lead
a heedless man to make a fool of himself. In the second place, and
even when she was laughing, her dark eyes were quick and filled with a
look of remarkable keenness. And, finally, it appeared that she felt a
very strong interest in Longstreet.

'She's nothing but a flirt,' thought Helen with something of disgust
and utterly without realization that she herself had come perilously
close to flirting with John Carr not so long ago--though of course with
ample reason! 'She'd look like that at any man, were he in
knee-breeches or as old as Dad.'

Howard came, and presently they went into the darkened dining-room.
Sanchia was entertaining Longstreet with an account of her first coming
into this perfectly dreadful country, and so it came about that Helen
and Alan entered together and found chairs side by side. Since for the
greater part of the meal Sanchia monopolized the university man, Alan
and Helen were left largely to themselves. And, largely, they were
silent. He sought to engage her in talk some two or three times, found
her quiet and listless, and in the end gave up all attempt at
conversation. After lunch, while Mrs. Murray's tongue was still racing
merrily for the benefit of the professor, Howard succeeded in getting
Helen alone at the far end of the porch.

'Look here, Helen,' he said after his outright style, 'what's the
matter? What have I done?'

'_Helen_?' she repeated after him.

'Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Helen, or Miss Longstreet, or Your
Lady