time
men were on the way to work. Many of them turned their heads to stare
at her. There was only one woman in town who sat a horse like this
one, and it could be no less a person than Patty Bennington. All the
men recognized her instantly. She had their good wishes, for all that
her brother had taken away the bread and butter of some of them. Many
touched their hats from mere force of habit.

There was one man, however, who glared evilly at her from the curb.
She recognized him in spite of his discolored face, the result of a
long, uninterrupted debauch. It was Bolles. As he caught her eye he
smiled evilly and leered at her.

"Wait, my beauty; wait. I'll kill that brother of yours one of these
fine days, damn him!" Bolles gave one more look at the swiftly-moving
figure on the horse, and shuffled away toward McQuade's office, to
await the arrival of that gentleman. Bolles needed money, and he knew
where to get it.

As she reached the foot of Williams Street Patty glanced up the hill.
A horseman had just entered Warrington's. She recognized both man and
horse. It was Warrington. She knew at once that he had ridden out her
favorite route, perhaps in the hope of seeing her. Her heart tightened
strangely as she walked her horse up the hill, and she would have
passed home but for the intelligence of her animal, which turned in
toward the house quite naturally. Her mother was on the side veranda.

"Patty, you have worried us all. The stableman, when he found your
horse gone, came in with the cry of thieves. I was frightened, too,
till I went to your room and found you gone. You mustn't go without
notifying the stableman or the groom."

"It was an impulse of the moment, mother. I couldn't sleep, and I saw
no need of waking up the boys in the stables."

Patty ran up stairs for a bath and a change of clothes for breakfast.
She ate little, however; the ride had not put the usual edge on her
appetite.

"Mr. Warrington made a fine speech last night," said the mother,
handing the morning paper to Patty.

Patty accepted it mechanically. She had determined not to read the
paper. But she knew now, if she unfolded it, she would turn
immediately to the local pages and search for Warrington's speech. She
read it, and she hated herself for admiring it. The self-lie was not
among Patty's failings. There was no denying that Warrington's speech
was a good oratorical effort; every line of it rang sound and true;
but that might be a