out of her eyes and stared at him as if she did not
understand, but Joe Louden, who had picked up the banjo-case
obediently, burst into cheerful laughter.

"That's it, 'Gene," he cried, gayly. "That's the way to talk to her!"

"Stow it, you young cub," replied Eugene, not turning to him. "Do you
think I'm trying to be amusing?"

"I don't know what you mean by 'stow it,'" Joe began, "but if--"

"I mean," interrupted the other, not relaxing his faintly smiling stare
at the girl--"I mean that Ariel Tabor is to go home. Really, we can't
have this kind of thing occurring upon our front lawn!"

The flush upon her wet cheeks deepened and became dark; even her arm
grew redder as she gazed back at him. In his eyes was patent his
complete realization of the figure she cut, of this bare arm, of the
strewn hair, of the fallen stocking, of the ragged shoulder of her
blouse, of her patched short skirt, of the whole dishevelled little
figure. He was the master of the house, and he was sending her home as
ill-behaved children are sent home by neighbors.

The immobile, amused superiority of this proprietor of silver boxes,
this wearer of strange and brilliant garments, became slightly
intensified as he pointed to the fallen sleeve, a rag of red and snow,
lying near her feet.

"You might take that with you?" he said, interrogatively.

Her gaze had not wavered in meeting his, but at this her eyelashes
began to wink uncontrollably, her chin to tremble. She bent over the
sleeve and picked it up, before Joe Louden, who had started towards
her, could do it for her. Then turning, her head still bent so that
her face was hidden from both of them, she ran out of the gate.

"DO go!" Joe called after her, vehemently. "Go! Just to show what a
fool you are to think 'Gene's in earnest."

He would have followed, but his step-brother caught him by the arm.
"Don't stop her," said Eugene. "Can't you tell when I AM in earnest,
you bally muff!"

"I know you are," returned the other, in a low voice. "I didn't want
her to think so for your sake."

"Thousands of thanks," said Eugene, airily. "You are a wise young
judge. She couldn't stay--in THAT state, could she? I sent her for
her own good."

"She could have gone in the house and your mother might have loaned her
a jacket," returned Joe, swallowing. "You had no business to make her
go out in the street like that."

Eugene laughed. "There isn't a soul in sight--and there, she's