d me the trouble of reading it."

"They are coming to-morrow," said Rosalie long afterward, as the last of
the Crows straggled off to bed. "You will have to go away with them,
won't you?"

"I'm an awful nuisance about here, I fancy, and you'll be glad to be rid
of me," he said softly, his gaze on the blazing "back-log."

"No more so than you will be to go," she said so coolly that his pride
suffered a distinct shock. He stole a shy glance at the face of the girl
opposite. It was as calm and serene as a May morning. Her eyes likewise
were gazing into the blaze, and her fingers were idly toying with the
fringe on the arm of the chair.

"By George!" he thought, a weakness assailing his heart suddenly; "I
don't believe she cares a rap!"

CHAPTER XXVI

The Left Ventricle

The next day Mrs. Bonner and Miss Bonner descended upon Tinkletown. They
were driven over from Boggs City in an automobile, and their advent
caused a new thrill of excitement in town. Half of the women in
Tinkletown found excuse to walk past Mr. Crow's home some time during
the day, and not a few of them called to pay their respects to Mrs.
Crow, whether they owed them or not, much to that estimable lady's
discomfiture.

Wicker's mother was a handsome, aristocratic woman with a pedigree
reaching back to Babylon or some other historic starting place. Her
ancestors were Tories at the time of the American Revolution, and she
was proud of it. Her husband's forefathers had shot a few British in
those days, it is true, and had successfully chased some of her own
ancestors over to Long Island, but that did not matter in these
twentieth century days. Mr. Bonner long since had gone to the tomb; and
his widow at fifty was quite the queen of all she surveyed, which was
not inconsiderable. The Bonners were rich in worldly possessions, rich
in social position, rich in traditions. The daughter, just out in
society, was a pretty girl, several years younger than Wicker. She was
the idol of his heart. This slip of a girl had been to him the
brightest, wittiest and prettiest girl in all the world. Now, he was
wondering how the other girl, who was not his sister, would compare with
her when they stood together before him.

Naturally, Mrs. Crow and her daughters sank into a nervous panic as soon
as these fashionable women from Boston set foot inside the humble home.
They lost what little self-possession they had managed to acquire and
floundered miserably t