----"

"There, there, Miss Ethel, your loyalty is admirable, if misplaced----"

"Don't speak to me of loyalty! I have been as narrow and as _mean_
as--as _you_ have!"

"My dear girl, you are overwrought. The sooner we learn that William
Carmody has ceased to exist the better it will be for both of us. I bid
you good-night."

The girl sank into the depths of her big chair and watched the
sputtering little jet-flames lick futilely at the artificial logs of
the fireplace. Believing herself alone, she was startled by the sound
of footsteps hurrying noisily across the room. The next instant a
tousle-headed boy with eyes ablaze was at her side working her hands
like pump-handles.

"By Jimmy, Eth, you're a brick--the way you gave it to him! You bet
I'll tell Bill how you stuck up for him."

"Charlie Manton! You were listening--eavesdropping."

"I didn't! I wasn't! I mean I couldn't help hearing! The door of the
den was open and I was in there studying. Old man Carmody is an old
liar!"

"Charlie!"

"Well, he is, and you know it! I hate him! You bet he wouldn't dare
call Bill a thief to his face! Bill could lick forty-seven like him
with one hand tied behind his back. Bill is square. He wouldn't swipe a
million dollars--let alone a rotten, measly fifty thousand!"

"Charlie Manton! What kind of talk is that? You ought to be ashamed!"

"Well, I ain't--so there! And I'm Bill's friend, and I ain't afraid to
say so, either. You do love Bill--and you know it! You can claim you
hate him till you're black in the face, but you can't fool _me_! What
did you stick up for him for if you hated him? I bet old man Carmody
swiped the bonds himself!"

"Stop right there! Aren't you ashamed to speak so disrespectfully of
Mr. Carmody? He was an old friend of father's."

"I don't care if he was. I'm an old friend of Bill's, too. And Bill
_ain't_ a thief, no matter what he says!"

"You go to bed this minute. I am surprised and mortified to think that
you would be so contemptible as to listen to other people's affairs."

"'Taint any worse than lying!"

The boy stamped angrily from the room, and the girl sat long by the
fire and, one by one, fed letters to the flames.

CHAPTER VI

THE CROOKED GAME

"Clickity-click, clickity-click, clickity-click," the monotonous song
of the rails told off the miles as the heavy train rushed westward
between the endless cornfields of a flat middle State. To the
well-built athletic young