ld me in plenty of time," corrected Westerfelt. "It was my
fault that I didn't get away. I didn't go when Miss Harriet told me
to."

His reply did not please Mrs. Bradley, as she showed by her next
remark. "I'd think you'd be afeerd o' makin' Toot madder at you 'n he
already is," she said to Harriet.

The girl did not look at her. She was watching Westerfelt, who had
suddenly moved to the bed and sat down. When she spoke she directed
her explanation to Bradley rather than to his wife.

"Mother and I thought Mr. Westerfelt ought not to stay here alone, and
that we'd get him to come over to the room he had in the hotel; so we--"

"You an' yore mother hain't knowed 'im sence he wus knee-high like me
an' Luke has," jealously retorted Mrs. Bradley. "I reckon it's time we
wus givin' the boy a little attention. We've got the buggy down thar
waitin', John, an' a hot breakfast ready at home. I won't stand no
refusal. You jest got to come with us; you needn't make no excuse."

"I'm not sick," answered Westerfelt, with a faint smile. He glanced at
Harriet. With an unsteady step she was moving away. He wanted to call
to her, but the presence of the others sealed his lips. She turned out
into the semi-darkness of the loft, and then they heard her descending
the stairs.

The sun was rising as she went back to the hotel. No one was in the
parlor. She entered it and closed the door after her. She drew up the
window-shade and looked down the street till she saw Mrs. Bradley and
Westerfelt pass in a buggy. Then she went into the dining-room, where
a servant was laying a cloth on a long table, took down a stack of
plates from a shelf, and began to put them in their places.

When breakfast was over that morning Westerfelt went back to the
stable. While sitting in the office. Long Jim Hunter came to the door
leading a fine bay horse, a horse that Westerfelt recognized at a
glance as one he had seen and admired before.

"Oh, Mr. Westerfelt," he called out over Washburn's shoulder, who had
gone to him. "I wish you'd step heer a minute. I know you don't do
the rough work round heer, but I like to have my dealings with the head
of a shebang. Wash, heer, never did have much more sense 'n a chinch,
nohow."

"What can I do for you, Mr. Hunter?" asked the man addressed, coming
out.

There was a decidedly sheepish look in the old man's face, and he swung
the halter of the horse awkwardly to and fro.

"Well, you se