r aunt, which seemed curiously impassive, and
a little thrill ran through him. It passed, and once more he only saw
the leader of Silverdale.

"Sir," he said, "I did you a wrong when I came here, and with your
convictions you would never tolerate me as your successor."

There was a rustle of fabric as some of the women moved, and a murmur
of uncontrollable astonishment, while those who noticed it, remembered
Barrington's gasp. It expressed absolute bewilderment, but in another
moment he smiled.

"Sit down, Lance," he said. "You need make no speeches. We expect
better things from you."

Winston stood very still. "It was the simple truth I told you, sir,"
he said. "Don't make it too hard for me."

Just then there was a disturbance at the rear of the room, and a man,
who shook off the grasp of one that followed him, came in. He moved
forward with uneven steps, and then, resting his hand on a chair back,
faced about and looked at Winston. The dust was thick upon his
clothes, but it was his face that seized and held attention. It was
horribly pallid, save for the flush that showed in either cheek, and
his half-closed eyes were dazed.

"I heard them cheering," he said. "Couldn't find you at your
homestead. You should have sent the five hundred dollars. They would
have saved you this."

The defective utterance would alone have attracted attention, and, with
the man's attitude, was very significant, but it was equally evident to
most of those who watched him that he was also struggling with some
infirmity. Western hospitality has, however, no limit, and one of the
younger men drew out a chair.

"Hadn't you better sit down, and if you want anything to eat we'll get
it you," he said. "Then you can tell us what your errand is."

The man made a gesture of negation, and pointed to Winston.

"I came to find a friend of mine. They told me at his homestead that
he was here," he said.

There was an impressive silence, until Colonel Barrington glanced at
Winston, who still stood quietly impassive at the foot of the table.

"You know our visitor?" he said. "The Grange is large enough to give a
stranger shelter."

The man laughed. "Of course he does; it's my place he's living in."

Barrington turned again to Winston, and his face seemed to have grown a
trifle stern.

"Who is this man?" he said.

Winston looked steadily in front of him, vacantly noticing the rows of
faces turned towards him under the bi