on's, but she saw no beds of
flowers, no wide veranda screened with potted plants; a certain
bareness and air of inhospitality, she thought. No tea and angel cake
for visitors! Behind the ranch house were two cottages of unpainted
pine, scorched to a yellow-brown by many a summer sun. One of them,
doubtless, was the hermit's lodge. The barn, larger than Seth's, had a
red roof, newly painted. And in one of the corrals--yes--the flash of
a golden hide.

"Sunnysides!" murmured Marion.

Then her heart stood still. She had descried the figure of a man
seated with his back against the bars of this corral. But it was not
Philip Haig; Sunnysides' guard, no doubt, for he never left his post
until relieved by another an hour or so later, when the dinner bell
had been rung at the door of the ranch house.

She had scarcely time to feel her disappointment before a man emerged
from the stable leading a saddle horse. Another immediately followed,
and this time there was no mistake. The second man was Philip Haig. He
mounted quickly, and started off; then stopped to address a word or
two, apparently, to the man at the stable door; and finally galloped
past the ranch house and the cottages, and up the slope behind them
toward the pines, across the valley from where she sat.

"Oh!" cried Marion, in a tone of vexation and reproach.

She watched him until he had disappeared among the trees; and tears
started in her eyes. Would he always be riding away from her, behind
the hills, the woods, a turn of the road? She sat a while in deep
dejection; but not for long. Her spirit was too resilient for futile
moping, and her purpose too firmly held to be abandoned on one
reverse. She reflected that if he had gone he must as certainly
return; and so, with a toss of her head, she presently arose, and
fetched her raincoat and her luncheon from the saddle. The coat she
spread out on the ground, seated herself on it with her back against
the rock, and settled down to eat, and watch, and wait.

Morning mounted hot and humming into noon, and noon dropped languidly
into afternoon. The blazing sun centered his rays upon her; insects
found and pestered her; discomfort cramped her limbs, and weariness
weighted down her eyelids. Twice she dozed, and wakened with a start
of fear lest she had slept her chance away. But each time she was
reassured by a hurried survey of the group of buildings, where no one
stirred, and there was no sign of Philip Haig. So