about anybody in her life, but she was a
long-suffering woman, and she philosophically accepted the accusation.

Twenty-four hours later the general had a passage at arms with Bernard.

"You can watch the threshing this morning, my boy," he remarked as he
sat down to breakfast. "You won't go in to town, I suppose?"

Bernard shook his head.

"I thought of riding in for the mail," he answered; "there's a letter
I'm looking for."

The general flushed and put out a preliminary feeler. "How are you
going?" he inquired; "not on one of my horses, I hope?"

Eugenia shook her head at Bernard, but he went on recklessly:

"Why, yes, I thought I'd take the gray mare."

The general shook his head until his flabby face grew purple.

"The gray mare!" he thundered. "You mean to take out my gray mare, do
you? Well, I'd like to see you, sir. Not a step does the gray mare
stir--not a step, sir."

"Oh, all right," agreed Bernard so quietly that the general's rage
increased. "Keep her in the stables, for all I care." And, having
finished his breakfast, he bowed to Miss Chris and left the table.

But an hour later, as he passed through the hall, he found the general
waiting. "Aren't you ready?" he asked irascibly. "Are you going to waste
the whole morning? Why aren't you in town?"

Bernard's temper was well enough as long as there was no reason it
should be better; but he couldn't stand his father, and he knew it.

"I'm not going," he returned sullenly.

"Not going!" cried the general hotly, "not going after all the fuss
you've raised? What do you mean by changing your mind every minute?"

Bernard took his hat from the old mahogany rack. "I've nothing to ride,"
he replied irritably, "and I don't choose to walk--that's what I mean."

But his answer only exasperated his hovering parent.

"Damme, sir, do you want to make me lose my temper?" he demanded. "Isn't
the stable full of horses? Where's the gray mare, I'd like to know,
sir?"

"Eugie!" called Bernard angrily, "come here." And as the girl appeared
he made a break from the house. He possessed an abiding faith in the
endurance of Eugenia's clannish soul that was proof against even the
suggestion that it might succumb. His father was unquestionably trying,
but Eugie was unquestionably strong, and she loved her people with a
passion which he felt to be romantically unsurpassable. Yes, Eugie was
the hope of the family, after all.

As for the girl, she put her arm about t