as detaining him for some purpose not yet apparent,
he would have told her of her husband's note and confessed that the adored
Billie was at that moment enjoying the reluctant hospitality of Happy Hill
Farm. He resolved to continue his policy of silence as to the young heir's
whereabouts until Muriel had shown her hand. She had not wholly abandoned
the thought of telephoning to her father-in-law's, he found, from her next
remark.

"You think it's all right, don't you? It's strange Roger didn't leave me
a note of some kind. Our cook left a week ago and there was no one here
when he left."

"I reckon as how yer kid's all right, miss," he answered consolingly.

Her voluble confidences had enthralled him, and her reference of this
matter to his judgment was enormously flattering. On the rough edges of
society where he had spent most of his life, fellow craftsmen had
frequently solicited his advice, chiefly as to the disposition of their
ill-gotten gains or regarding safe harbors of refuge, but to be taken into
counsel by the only gentlewoman he had ever met roused his self-respect,
touched a chivalry that never before had been wakened in The Hopper's
soul. She was so like a child in her guilelessness, and so brave amid her
perplexities!

"Oh, I know Roger will take beautiful care of Billie. And now," she smiled
radiantly, "you're probably wondering what I've been driving at all this
time. Maybe"--she added softly--"maybe it's providential, your turning up
here in this way!"

She uttered this happily, with a little note of triumph and another of her
smiles that seemed to illuminate the universe. The Hopper had been called
many names in his varied career, but never before had he been invested
with the attributes of an agent of Providence.

"They's things wot is an' they's things wot ain't, miss; I reckon I ain't
as bad as some. I mean to be on the square, miss."

"I believe that," she said. "I've always heard there's honor among
thieves, and"--she lowered her voice to a whisper--"it's possible I might
become one myself!"

The Hopper's eyes opened wide and he crossed and uncrossed his legs
nervously in his agitation.

"If--if"--she began slowly, bending forward with a grave, earnest look in
her eyes and clasping her fingers tightly--"if we could only get hold of
father's Lang-Yao jar and that plum-blossom vase Mr. Talbot has--if we
could only do that!"

The Hopper swallowed hard. This fearless, pretty young woman w