ng an active part in the world's work."

He spoke musingly, as if to himself more than to the girl who hung on
each word with eager interest. No one had ever told her as much of Old
Swallowtail as he was now telling her of himself. She wondered why he
was so confidential. Was it because she seemed dull and stupid? Because
she was a stranger who was likely to decamp instantly when he let her
go? Or was the retrospective mood due to the hour and the unwonted
situation? She waited, scarce breathing lest she lose a word.

"The poor fellow whom I stabbed lived miserably for twenty years
afterward," he went on, "and I supported him and his family during that
time, for his life had been ruined by my act. Later in life and here at
the Crossing, people saw me kill a balky horse in a wild rage, and they
have been afraid of me ever since. Even more recently I--"

He suddenly paused, remembering where he was and to whom he was
speaking. The girl's face was perfectly blank when he shot a shrewd
glance at it. Her look seemed to relieve his embarrassment.

"However," said he in a different tone, "I am not so black as I'm
painted."

"I don't think you treat poor Ingua quite right," remarked Josie.

"Eh? Why not?"

"You neglect her; you don't give her enough to eat; she hasn't a dress
fit for a ragamuffin to wear. And she's your granddaughter."

He drew in a long breath, staring hard.

"Has she been complaining?"

"Not to me," said Josie; "but she doesn't need to. Haven't I eyes?
Doesn't everyone say it's a shame to treat the poor child the way you
do? My personal opinion is that you're a poor excuse for a
grandfather," she added, with more spirit than she had yet exhibited.

He sat silent a long time, looking at the lamp. His face was hard; his
long, slim fingers twitched as if longing to throttle someone; but he
positively ignored Josie's presence. She believed he was struggling to
subdue what Ingua called "the devils," and would not have been
surprised had-he broken all bounds and tried to do her an injury.

"Go!" he said at last, still without looking at her. "Go, and remember
that I will not forgive twice."

She thought it best to obey. Very softly she left the room, and as she
passed out he was still staring at the flame of the lamp and
alternately clenching and unclenching his talon-like fingers.

CHAPTER XVI
INGUA'S NEW DRESS

"Well," said Mary Louise, when Josie had related to her friend the
story next mo