called upon one of them several times," returned Brian, smiling.
"Mr. King is painting that little glade by the old spring at the foot of
the bank, you know, and I guess she stumbled onto him. The place is one of
her favorite spots. But bless your heart, Myra, there's no harm in it. It
would be natural for her to get interested in any one making a picture of
a place she loves as she does that old spring glade. She has spent days at
a time there--ever since she was big enough to go that far from home."

"It's strange that she has not mentioned it to me," said the
woman--troubled in spite of the Ranger's reassuring words.

The man directed his attention suddenly to his horse; "Max! You let
Sibyl's roses alone." The animal turned his head questioningly toward his
master. "Back!" said the Ranger, "back!" At his word, the chestnut
promptly backed across the yard until the officer called, "That will do,"
when he halted, and, with an impatient toss of his head, again looked
toward the porch, inquiringly. "You are all right now," said the man.
Whereupon the horse began contentedly cropping the grass.

"I met Mr. King, accidentally, once, at the depot in Fairlands," continued
the woman with the disfigured face. "He impressed me, then, as being a
genuinely good man--a true gentleman. But, judging from his books, Conrad
Lagrange is not a man I would wish Sibyl to meet. I have wondered at the
artist's friendship with him."

"I tell you, Myra, Lagrange is all right," said Brian Oakley, stoutly.
"He's odd and eccentric and rough spoken sometimes; but he's not at all
what you would think him from the stuff he writes. He's a true man at
heart, and you needn't worry about Sibyl getting anything but good from an
acquaintance with him. As for King--well--Conrad Lagrange vouches for him.
If you knew Lagrange, you'd understand what that means. He and the young
fellow's mother grew up together. He swears the lad is right; and, from
what I've seen of him, I believe it. It doesn't follow, though, that you
don't need to keep your eyes open. The girl is as innocent as a
child--though she is a woman--and--well--accidents have happened, you
know." As he spoke he glanced unconsciously at the scars that disfigured
the naturally beautiful face of the woman.

Myra Willard blushed as she answered sadly, "Yes, I know that accidents
have happened. I will talk with Sibyl; and will you not speak to her too?
She loves you so, and is always guided by you