pe,
and seal it. But it was done at last. She rose, and paused a moment to
collect herself. Her mouth was dry, her forehead was hot under the
hand that she pressed upon it. Nervously she poured a glass of water
from the crystal pitcher that stood on a little table by the window,
and gulped it down. Her eyes, as she did so, fell again upon the
bouquet of columbines lying forlorn, their tender faces half buried in
the dry grass. A cry rose to her lips, but she forced it back, and
with a tightening of her lips, turned and went rapidly out into the
room where Seth and Claire awaited her.

"What do you think?" she cried, in a voice that sounded strangely
shrill and unmusical in her ears. "It's from Robert--Robert
Hillyer--Papa's good friend--and mine. He wants to come up and see
me--he's in Denver--on business. He wants to come up--he says--just
for a day or two--do you mind--if I ask him?"

"Of course, dear!" cried Claire, with enthusiasm.

"Sure!" seconded Seth. "Tell him he's very welcome."

"I knew you'd say that!" said Marion excitedly. "So--the letter--it's
all ready. Can it go out--the stage goes to-morrow, doesn't it?"

"Yes," replied Huntington. "I'll take it down in the morning--before
you're up."

"Please!"

She stood a moment, smiling at them. Then her eyes wandered aimlessly
around the room. She must do something quick, or she would go to
pieces. She saw the piano, and fairly ran to it. Crash! went the
chords. Rippling and tumbling on one another came the notes under her
nervous fingers. Out of the jumble of unrelated sounds presently
emerged a gay and sparkling melody; and then a gayer one; and after
that a rollicking song from one of the latest musical comedies. There
followed two of the sauciest, most irresponsible tunes that ever made
a vaudeville success. She played with abandon, a kind of reckless
fury, sitting erect, with her head flung back, an insouciant smile
flickering about her lips, her lithe body swaying with the music. Then
suddenly, in the midst of a tune, she stopped, arose, faced Seth and
Claire with flaming cheeks and eyes unnaturally bright.

"Great, Marion!" cried Seth, slapping his thigh. "Go on, please!"

But Claire had seen what Huntington had not. She turned to him
swiftly, with a quick command, as if she had suddenly remembered
something.

"I've clean forgot that pie, Seth. Go to the cave and bring me some
apples. Quick, now!"

He sensed something a little queer in that o