e--this Mr. Reed--did he write
you he thought 'twas all right for him to send Sam the--the kind of
letter he did send him, the one givin' your brother such a good
reference?"

The color rose in her face and she hesitated before replying.

"No," she confessed, after a moment. "He did not write me that he
thought it right to give Captain Hunniwell such a reference. In
fact he wrote that he thought it all wrong, deceitful, bordering on
the dishonest. He much preferred having Charles go to the captain
and tell the whole truth. On the other hand, however, he said he
realized that that might mean the end of the opportunity here and
perhaps public scandal and gossip by which we all might suffer.
And he said he had absolute confidence that Charles was not a
criminal by intent, and he felt quite sure that he would never go
wrong again. If he were still in active business, he said, he
should not hesitate to employ him. Therefore, although he still
believed the other course safer and better, he would, if Captain
Hunniwell wrote, answer as I had asked. And he did answer in that
way. So, you see," she cried, eagerly, "HE believes in Charles,
just as I do. And just as you will when you know, Mr. Winslow.
Oh, WON'T you try to believe now?"

A harder-hearted man than Jed Winslow would have found it difficult
to refuse such a plea made in such a way by such a woman. And
Jed's heart was anything but hard.

"Now, now, Mrs. Armstrong," he stammered, "you don't have to ask me
that. Course I believe in the poor young chap. And--and I guess
likely everything's goin' to come out all right. That Mr. What's-
his-name--er--Wright--no, Reed--I got read and write mixed up, I
guess--he's a business man and he'd ought to know about such things
better'n I do. I don't doubt it'll come out fine and we won't
worry any more about it."

"And we will still be friends? You know, Mr. Winslow, you are the
only real friend I have in Orham. And you have been so loyal."

Jed flushed with pleasure.

"I--I told you once," he said, "that my friends generally called me
'Jed.'"

She laughed. "Very well, I'll call you 'Jed,'" she said. "But turn
about is fair play and you must call me 'Ruth.' Will you? Oh,
there's Babbie calling me. Thank you again, for Charles' sake and
my own. Good morning--Jed."

"Er--er--good mornin', Mrs. Armstrong."

"What?"

"Er--I mean Mrs. Ruth."

The most of that forenoon, that is the hour or so remaini