r Double
G. She addressed an envelope, dropped the money in, sealed the flap, and
put the package beside a letter addressed to T. L. Morse.

Lee, full of an unhappy restlessness which he could not control, presently
got up and moved away to the stables. He was blaming himself bitterly for
the events of the past few days.

It was perhaps half an hour later that Melissy looked up to see the
sturdy figure of Morse in the doorway. During the past year he had filled
out, grown stronger and more rugged. His deep tan and heavy stride
pronounced him an outdoor man no less surely than the corduroy suit and
the high laced miners' boots.

He came forward to the postoffice window without any sign of recognition.

"Is Mr. Flatray still here?"

"No!" Without further explanation Melissy took from the box the two
letters addressed to Morse and handed them to him.

The girl observed the puzzled look that stole over his face at sight of
the silver in one envelope. A glance at the business address printed on
the upper left hand corner enlightened him. He laid the money down in the
stamp window.

"This isn't mine."

"You heard what my father said?"

"That applies to next time, not to this."

"I think it does apply to this time."

"I can't see how you're going to make me take it back. I'm an obstinate
man."

"Just as you like."

A sudden flush of anger swept her. She caught up the silver and flung it
through the open window into the dusty road.

His dark eyes met hers steadily and a dull color burned in his tanned
cheeks. Without a word he turned away, and instantly she regretted what
she had done. She had insulted him deliberately and put herself in the
wrong. At bottom she was a tender-hearted child, even though her father
and his friends had always spoiled her, and she could not but reproach
herself for the hurt look she had brought into his strong, sad face. He
was their enemy, of course, but even enemies have rights.

Morse walked out of the office looking straight before him, his strong
back teeth gripped so that the muscles stood out on his salient jaw.
Impulsively the girl ran around the counter after him.

He looked up from untying his horse to see her straight and supple figure
running toward him. Her eager face was full of contrition and the color of
pink rose petals came and went in it.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Morse. I oughtn't to have done that. I hurt your
feelings," she cried.

At best he was never a handsome