and came around
the table. Awkwardly, he patted her shoulder. Katrina sat down.

"I'm glad you don't like Sparks, my dear," said Mr. McBride, leaning on
his stick. "And don't worry your heart over Grandfather, Triny.
Grandfather's no fool. He ain't had so much fun in years." Mr. McBride
winked just here, and put on an air of profound mystery.

"I wonder where you do disappear to," said Katrina. "I think I'll go
along."

"Don't you do that," spoke up Mr. McBride alertly. "Don't you do that!
A man can't stand a woman tagging at his heels. He's got to have room,
and air to breathe."

"Smoke, you mean," put in Katrina, with returning spirit, "and I warn
you, Grandfather, that if you make fires off our place, you'll be
arrested."

"Pooh! Fires!" said Mr. McBride contemptuously. "Amusement for children.
I ain't a-makin' fires these days, Katriny. I've got other things to
do." And, with a final pat upon her shoulder, and a last most telling
wink, Grandfather McBride dragged himself wearily, but triumphantly, to
bed.

When Katrina, on the lookout next afternoon, saw Mr. McBride join John
in the back garden, hold with him a whispered consultation broken by
many stealthy glances toward the house, and finally disappear with him
down the lane, behind a wheelbarrow laden with boards, she gave orders
that she was not at home, waited half an hour, and followed.

The lane wound coolly green and deserted from the Prentiss place into
the heart of the country. Katrina, walking steadily, passed her own,
passed the Graham and the Haskell boundaries, and stopped in surprise.
At a branching path hung a new and conspicuous sign. "Private Road! No
Trespassing, Under Penalty of the Law."

It was a churlish sign. The people of the neighborhood--a summer
settlement of friends and pleasant informalities--were used to no such
signs. And Katrina, knowing Grandfather McBride, turned at once into the
branching path. At some distance in, she passed a similar sign, with
every mark of disdain. Finally, she was brought up short by a wire
fence, with a gate, high, wooden, and new, that stretched across the
path. She tried the gate, but it did not budge. From the wood beyond
came the sound of voices and the strokes of a hammer. With a quick
glance behind her, and a determined set to her chin, she began to climb
the gate.

She was descending upon the other side in safety, when Grandfather
McBride came upon her. His hat was pushed back upon his he