n brown hair once, but was now thin and streaked with grey.
"Oh, Andrew," she wept. "We are ruined. That we should ever have come
to this!"

It was now Dr. Hardy's turn to be exasperated. There was one thing his
philosophy could not endure. That was a person who was not, and would
not be, philosophical. Mrs. Hardy was not, and would not be,
philosophical. She was an absolutist. With Mrs. Hardy things were
right or things were wrong. Moreover, that which was done according to
rule was right, and that which was not done according to rule was
wrong. It was apparent that the acquaintanceship of Irene and Dave
Elden had not been according to rule.

"This is all nonsense," said the doctor, impatiently. "There is
nothing to it, anyway. The girl had to have some company. What if
they did ride together? What--"

"They rode together? Alone?"

"They had their horses along," said the doctor, whose impatience had
made way for sarcasm.

"Through the forest, I suppose," said Mrs. Hardy, with an air of one
whose humiliation is complete.

"Oh, yes, through the forests, across the foothills, up the canyons,
hours of it, days of it, weeks of it--"

"Stop! You are mocking me. In this hour of shame you are making
jests. Call Irene."

The girl was summoned. Her fine face had lost some of its brownness,
and the eyes seemed deeper and slower, but she was still a vision of
grace and beauty as she stood in response to their call framed in the
curtains of an archway. Her quick sense caught the tense atmosphere,
and she came forward with parted lips and extended fingers. There was
the glint of light on her white teeth. "Yes?" she said. "What is
wrong? Can I help?"

"Your father has confessed," said Mrs. Hardy, trying hard to speak with
judicial calm. "Now tell us about your relations with this young
Elden, this cow _puncher_. Let us know the worst."

Irene's startled eyes flew from her mother to her father's face. And
there they caught something that restored their calm.

"There was no worst," she said, with a ripple of laughter. "But there
was a good deal of best. Shall I tell you the best?"

"Irene," said her mother, severely, "Did you permit that young man to
make love to you?"

"I did not give him permission, if that answers you, because--he didn't
ask it."

Mrs. Hardy had risen, "Andrew, you hear that? She confesses. And you,
blind, blind, couldn't see it!"

"Is it very dreadful?" asked Irene