d themselves
into the train for Keefe.

"What you thinkin' about, child?" demanded Miss Mehitable after a long
period of silence.

Geraldine met her regard wistfully. "I was wondering if anybody is ever
perfectly happy. Isn't there always some drawback, some 'if' that has to
be met?"

"Was you thinkin' about Mrs. Barry, Geraldine? I'm sorry she had one o'
her haughty spells that day--"

"No, I was not thinking of her; it is Mr. Barry--Ben. He went on a very
dangerous errand yesterday."

"You don't say so! Why, he came in as gay as a lark with those apple
blossoms and he went out to his machine whistlin'. He couldn't have had
much on his mind. You know I told you yesterday he's as sensible as he
is brave."

"What good is bravery against a madman with a gun--still he promised, he
promised me he would not go to the farm alone."

"Then he'll abide by it. You do give me a turn, Geraldine, talkin' about
madmen and guns."

The girl sighed.

"I haven't had anything but 'turns' ever since I first saw the Carder
farm; but it is unkind to draw you into it. Sometimes I wish I had never
mentioned Pete to Mr. Barry, yet it seems disloyal to leave the boy
there when I owe him so much."

And then Geraldine told her friend in detail the part the dwarf had
played in her life.

* * * * *

Mrs. Barry was, of course, able to think of little else than the new
element which had come so suddenly into her calm, well-ordered life. She
shrank fastidiously from anything undignified, and she felt that through
no fault of her own she was now in an undignified position. In her son's
eyes she was a culprit. Even her humble friend, Mehitable Upton, had
revealed plainly an indignation at her attitude. When Ben left yesterday
telling her that he might be gone several days, without explaining why
or where, she felt the barrier between them even while he kissed her
good-bye. He had made a vigorous declaration of independence that night
at dinner, and now he had gone away to let her think it over, not even
noticing that her eyes were heavy from a sleepless night.

All that day, as she moved about her customary occupations, the thought
of Geraldine haunted her; the way the girl had avoided her eyes after
their first encounter, how she had clung to Miss Upton, and how eagerly
she had urged departure.

"So silly," thought Mrs. Barry while she fed her pigeons. "How absurd of
her to expect anything different fro