outh and emptied it in the fireplace. "Me?" he said. "Oh,
I've knowed her a long time."

Jones was beginning to see the truth, to read the heart of this young
rascal. So it was over at the Hardy's that he spent so many hours!

"Oh, so that's it, is it? What's the matter? Does her father object?"

"Oh, no!" "Red" was quick to deny. "I stand all right with him. He's knowed
me a long time. It's her."

Gilbert laughed outright; and "Red," humanly embarrassed now that his
secret was out, paced the room, his hands behind his back, digging his heel
every now and then in the floor. "Aw--" he began.

"Listen, 'Red,'" said Jones, in sympathy with the lad, and hoping to cover
up his confusion. "If Hardy comes, keep him out till I'm alone. I don't
want any war talk before the Pells."

"I get yer," said "Red," visibly relieved.

"Any stronger cord on the place anywhere?" Gilbert looked around the room.
Maybe one of the many Indian jugs contained a string. "Red" and he had a
habit of putting any old thing in them.

"There's some down in the hay barn. Want me to get it for you?" "Red"
offered.

"No; I'll get it, thanks. You see if you can't prod up the cook a little.
I'm hungry now."

And "Red" ran into the kitchen. No sooner had he left the room, than there
was a rumble, and Uncle Henry burst in on Gilbert, a smile of triumph on
his face.

"I got it!" he all but yelled.

"Got what?" his nephew asked.

"An idea!... Mebbe he'd lend you some."

"Some what? And who?"

"Money, of course! That feller Pell, I mean. He's rich, an' if he knowed
that you and his wife was old friends--I betcher he'd lend you some." He
paused, breathless, for he had run his sentences into one. Gilbert glared
at him, as if he thought he had gone stark mad. But Uncle Henry was not
afraid. "You won't ask him?" he inquired.

"Certainly not. What are you raving about, anyhow? Cut out this sort of
talk, Uncle. You're getting on my nerves."

The old man simply switched his chair about. He had heard Gilbert in an
angry mood before, and he knew that nothing would follow his little burst
of wrath. "Oh, you make me tired, you young people," he raged. "I'd ask him
if it was me, you can bet I would!"

"_You_ would," was all that Gilbert replied. Sarcasm was in his voice.

"First you won't marry Hardy's daughter and now you won't ask him for
money," Uncle Henry pursued the subject.

Gilbert was genuinely angry now. "Oh, keep quiet! I'm sick of your pl