whose pet abomination was tobacco smoke, was not at all
minded to wait any longer than she could help. But Abiram Fell was
attending to a previous customer, and Miss Calista sat grimly down by
the counter to wait her turn.

The door opened, letting in a swirl of raw November evening wind and
Ches Maybin. He nodded sullenly to Mr. Fell and passed down the store
to mutter a message to a man at the further end.

Miss Calista lifted her head as he passed and sniffed the air as a
charger who scents battle. The smell of tobacco was strong, and so was
that of the open boxes of dried herring on the counter, but plainly,
above all the commingled odours of a country grocery, Miss Calista
caught a whiff of peppermint, so strong as to leave no doubt of its
origin. There had been no hint of it before Ches Maybin's entrance.

The latter did not wait long. He was out and striding along the
shadowy road when Miss Calista left the store and drove smartly after
him. It never took Miss Calista long to make up her mind about
anything, and she had weighed and passed judgement on Ches Maybin's
case while Mr. Fell was doing up her matches.

The lad glanced up furtively as she checked her fat grey pony beside
him.

"Good evening, Chester," she said with brisk kindness. "I can give you
a lift, if you are going my way. Jump in, quick--Dapple is a little
restless."

A wave of crimson, duskily perceptible under his sunburned skin,
surged over Ches Maybin's face. It almost seemed as if he were going
to blurt out a blunt refusal. But Miss Calista's face was so guileless
and her tone so friendly, that he thought better of it and sprang in
beside her, and Dapple broke into an impatient trot down the long
hill lined with its bare, wind-writhen maples.

After a few minutes' silence Miss Calista turned to her moody
companion.

"Chester," she said, as tranquilly as if about to ask him the most
ordinary question in the world, "why did you climb into my house last
night and try to steal my money?"

Ches Maybin started convulsively, as if he meant to spring from the
buggy at once, but Miss Calista's hand was on his arm in a grasp none
the less firm because of its gentleness, and there was a warning gleam
in her grey eyes.

"It won't mend matters trying to get clear of me, Chester. I know it
was you and I want an answer--a truthful one, mind you--to my
question. I am your friend, and I am not going to harm you if you tell
me the truth."

Her