placed near the
stair-way, sat there and listened to a girl's laugh and the low mumble
of a man's voice. "Let us go out where it's cooler," I heard Guinea say,
and I got up with my head in a whirl.

"Mr. Hawes, this is Mr. Lundsford."

"Glad to meet you, sir," I said, taking hold of something--his hand, I
suppose. I was urged to sit down again; Guinea said that she would bring
two more chairs, and when I had dropped back between the arms of the
rocker I looked at the man standing there, and a sort of glad
disappointment cleared my vision and placed him before me in a strong
light. He was short, almost fat, and in his thin, whitish hair there was
a hint at coming baldness. The close attention that he had been
compelled to give practical things, the sawing of bones, the tracing of
nerves, the undoing of man's machinery, had given him the cynical look
of a hard materialist. But when he stepped back to take the chair which
Guinea had brought I saw that he moved easily, that he was cool and knew
well how to handle himself. And this drove away the meager joy of my
glad disappointment.

"I hear you are going to take up school Monday," he said. "Rather late
to begin school just now, I should think."

"Under ordinary circumstances it would be regarded as late in the
season," I answered, "but we have been so interrupted that we now decide
to have no vacation."

"I guess you are right. Had a pretty close shave with those fellows,
didn't you? Ought to have killed them right there. I've seen Scott.
Thought he was a pretty bright fellow, naturally; rather witty. Would
make a first-rate subject on the slab."

"Because you thought him witty, sir?" I asked.

"Of course not; but because he is a good specimen--big fellow." He
looked at me and I thought that he was measuring my chest. "Yes," he
continued, "ought to have killed them. Man's got to take care of
himself, you know, and he can't make it his business to show mercy. Most
all the virtues now are back-woods qualities."

"I don't believe that," Guinea spoke up. "Every day we read of the
generosity of the world."

"Oh," he said, passing his short fingers through his thin hair, "you
read about it, and people who want to shine as generous creatures take
particular pains that you shall read about it. You've a great deal to
learn, my dear little woman."

"And perhaps there is a great deal that she doesn't care to learn," I
ventured to suggest; and I quickly looked at her to