led it. When they notice that lock of hair you know
the ship has struck the reef and all hands are perishing.

"And it seemed that the cuss had not only shown her more than a little
attention at evening functions but had escorted her to the midspring
production of 'Hamlet' by the Red Gap Amateur Theatrical and Dramatic
Society. True, he had conducted himself like a perfect gentleman every
minute they was alone together, even when they had to go home in Eddie
Pierce's hack because it was raining when the show let out--but would I,
or would I not, suspect from all this that he was in the least degree
thinking of her in a way that--you know!

"Poor child of twenty-eight, with her hungry eyes and flushed face while
she was showing down her hand to me! I seen the scoundrel's play at
once. Hetty was the one safe bet for him in Red Gap's social whirl. He
was wise, all right--this Mr. D. He'd known in a second he could trust
himself alone with that girl and be as safe as a babe in its mother's
arms. Of course I couldn't say this to Hetty. I just said he was a man
that seemed to know his own mind very clearly, whatever it was, and
Hetty blushed some more and said that something within her responded to
a certain note in his voice. We let it go at that.

"So I think and ponder about poor Hetty, trying to invent some
conspiracy that would fix it right, because she was the ideal mate for
an assistant cashier that had a certain position to keep up. For that
matter she was good enough for any man. Then I hear she has joined the
riding club, and an all day's ride has been planned for the next
Saturday up to Stender's Spring, with a basket lunch and a romantic ride
back by moonlight. Of course, I don't believe in any of this
spiritualist stuff, but you can't tell me there ain't something in it,
mind-reading or something, with the hunches you get when parties is in
some grave danger.

"Stella Ballard it was tells me about the picnic, calling me in as I
passed their house to show me her natty new riding togs that had just
come from the mail-order house. She called from back of a curtain, and
when I got into the parlour she had them on, pleased as all get-out.
Pretty they was, too--riding breeches and puttees and a man's flannel
shirt and a neat-fitting Norfolk jacket, and Stella being a fine,
upstanding figure.

"'They may cause considerable talk,' says she, smoothing down one leg
where it wrinkled a bit, 'but really I think they loo