odies who are eternally and forever poking their thin,
pointed noses into what doesn't concern them, no hot, scalding tears,
the Scribe regrets to say, dimmed her knowing eyes, nor did any unbidden
sigh leap from her old heart. Foolish young people ought to thank her
really for what she had done--what she would still try to do--and they
would when they were a year older.

Poor, meddling Miss Felicia! Have you forgotten that night thirty years
ago when you stood in a darkened room facing a straight, soldierly
looking man, and listened to the slow dropping of words that scalded
your heart like molten metal? Have you forgotten, too, the look on
his handsome face when he uttered his protest at the persistent
intermeddling of another, and the square of his broad shoulders as he
disappeared through the open door never to return again?

CHAPTER XVII

Some of the sunshine that had helped dry the muddy road, making possible
the path between Jack's abode and MacFarlane's hired villa--where there
was only room for Miss Felicia, Peter still occupying his cell at Mrs.
Hicks's, but taking his meals with Ruth, so that he could be within call
of MacFarlane when needed--some of this same sunshine, I say, may have
been responsible for the temporary drying up of Ruth's tears and the
establishing of various ways of communication between two hearts that
had for some days been floundering in the deeps. Or, perhaps, the
rebound may have been due to the fact that Peter had whispered something
in Jack's ear, or that Ruth had overheard Miss Felicia praising Jack's
heroism to her father--it was common talk everywhere--or it may
have been that the coming of spring which always brings hope and
cheer--making old into new, may have led to the general lighting up
of the gloom that had settled over the house of MacFarlane and its
dependents; but certain it is that such was the case.

MacFarlane began by taking a sudden change for the better--so decided
a change that he was out of his room and dressed on the fifth day
(although half his coat hid his broken arm, tightly bandaged to his
side). He had even talked as far as the geraniums in the window, through
which he could not only see Jack's hotel, but the big "earth fill" and
mouth of The Beast beyond.

Then Bolton surprised everybody by appearing outdoors, his hand alone in
a sling. What was left of the poor shanty men, too, had been buried,
the dreadful newspaper articles had ceased, and