d to ask her bluntly if she was going to the picnic.

Well, yes, she expected to.

Oh! Might he ask with whom?

Nan didn't know that it was a question of public interest at all.

"It isn't with that Osborne fellow, is it?" demanded Bryan
incautiously.

Nan tossed her head. "Well, why not?" she asked.

"Look here, Nan," said Lee angrily, "if you're going to the picnic
with John Osborne I'm surprised at you. What do you mean by
encouraging him so? He's as poor as Job's turkey. I suppose you've
heard that I've been compelled to foreclose the mortgage on his farm."

Nan kept her temper sweetly--a dangerous sign, had Bryan but known it.

"Yes; he was telling me so this morning," she answered slowly.

"Oh, was he? I suppose he gave me my character?"

"No; he didn't say very much about it at all. He said of course you
were within your rights. But do you really mean to do it, Bryan?"

"Of course I do," said Bryan promptly. "I can't wait any longer for my
money, and I'd never get it if I did. Osborne can't even pay the
interest."

"It isn't because he hasn't worked hard enough, then," said Nan. "He
has just slaved on that place ever since he grew up."

"Well, yes, he has worked hard in a way. But he's kind of shiftless,
for all that--no manager, as you might say. Some folks would have been
clear by now, but Osborne is one of those men that are bound to get
behind. He hasn't got any business faculty."

"He isn't shiftless," said Nan quickly, "and it isn't his fault if he
has got behind. It's all because of his care for his aunt. He has had
to spend more on her doctor's bills than would have raised the
mortgage. And now that she is dead and he might have a chance to pull
up, you go and foreclose."

"A man must look out for Number One," said Bryan easily, admiring
Nan's downcast eyes and rosy cheeks. "I haven't any spite against
Osborne, but business is business, you know."

Nan opened her lips to say something but, remembering Osborne's
parting injunction, she shut them again. She shot a scornful glance at
Lee as he stood with his arms folded on the sill beside her.

Bryan lingered, talking small talk, until Nan announced that she must
see about getting tea.

"And you won't tell me who is going to take you to the picnic?" he
coaxed.

"Oh, it's Ned Bennett," said Nan indifferently.

Bryan felt relieved. He unpinned the huge cluster of violets on his
coat and laid them down on the sill beside her before he w