one. But spread
ready for her was a dainty morning costume, which she knew for Clyde
Burnaby's. Dressing quickly, she entered the breakfast room.

Clyde, sitting by the window, rose, smiling, as she entered.

"I hope they fit," she said. "How do you feel, Miss McCrae?"

"They fit very well, and I feel first rate," said Sheila. "I'm sore in
spots, but I'll limber up when I get moving. Where is Mrs. Wade? I
suppose Casey has gone to Talapus."

"Kitty's busy cleaning your riding clothes," Clyde replied. "Casey has
gone; I haven't seen him."

It was the first time she had used his given name to a third person. It
slipped out naturally, and she coloured a trifle, but Sheila did not
appear to notice. They breakfasted together, and later sat on the
veranda enjoying the perfect morning after the storm. Naturally, they
spoke of the events of the preceding day and night. Sheila took a
practical view.

"It was lucky Tom McHale wasn't here," she said. "Somebody would have
been hurt. That's what I was afraid of."

"It was very brave of you," said Clyde. "I admire you more than I can
say. I want you to know it, Miss McCrae."

"Oh, that"--Sheila dismissed the warm praise with a wave of her brown
hand--"why, it wasn't anything; only a wet ride in the dark. If my
horse had kept his feet it would have been all right. I simply had to
come. Don't try to make me think myself a heroine. You'd do the same
thing yourself for a friend."

"I'm afraid I couldn't. I'm not much of a rider, and I couldn't have
found my way in the dark."

"Well, that's no credit to me. I've been riding all my life, and I know
every foot of this country. Of course, I'd do anything for Casey or
Tom."

"Yes," said Clyde, "they both think a great deal of you, I know."

"No more than I think of them--especially Casey. Some day I suppose
he'll get married, and then I'll have to call him 'Mr. Dunne.'"

"That won't be necessary."

"Oh, yes, it will. His wife wouldn't stand for 'Casey.'"

"Yes, she will," said Clyde. Sheila turned and looked at her keenly.
"We are going to be married," Clyde added.

"You don't mean it!" Sheila exclaimed. "Well, you are a lucky girl, if
you don't mind my saying so. Casey's _white_. I congratulate you with
all my heart. And he's lucky, too; yes, he is."

"You--you don't mind?" Clyde ventured. She thought it quite possible
that Sheila might care for Casey, although convinced that he did not
love her.

"Mind? Why should I