the ardent boy
and the man who, as she understood it, was roughened by lumberman's
life. She lifted Dottie on her shoulder and turned homeward. "I will
only be a few minutes getting Harold and some candles; don't go without
us, I beg of you," she pleaded.

He never thought of offering to carry the child, or call her brother for
her; his ideas of gallantry were submerged in the confusion of his
thoughts. He watched her tripping lightly with the child on her
shoulder. He saw her choose a path by the back of the white dairy
buildings, and then he heard her clear voice calling, "Harold! Harold!"
All up the yard's length to windows of house and stable he heard her
calling, till at length came the answering shout. In the silence that
followed he remembered, with a feeling of wonder, the shudder of
distaste that had come over him when he found that the other creature
with whom he had been dealing bore a woman's form. He could not endure
to think of her in the same moment in which he longed to hear Miss
Rexford's voice again and to see her come back. In the one case he could
not believe that evil was not the foundation of such eccentricity of
mystery; in the other he thought nothing, realised nothing, he only
longed for Sophia's return, as at times one longs for cool air upon the
temples, for balm of nature's distilling. He never thought that because
Sophia was a woman she would be sure to keep him waiting and forget the
candle. He felt satisfied she would do just what she said, and even to
his impatience the minutes did not seem long before he saw her return
round the same corner of the outbuildings, her brother beside her,
lantern in hand.

So in the waning daylight the three went together to the Harmon house,
and found torn bits of letters scattered on floor and window-sill near
the spot where Alec had last seen the unlooked-for apparition. The
letters, to all appearance, had belonged to the dentist, but they were
torn very small. The three searched the house all through by the light
of more than one candle, and came out again into the darkness of the
summer night, for the time nothing wiser concerning the mystery, but
feeling entirely at home with one another.

CHAPTER X.

Although Mrs. Rexford had been without an indoor servant for several
months of the winter, she had been fortunate enough to secure one for
the summer. Her dairy had not yet reached the point of producing
marketable wares, but it supplied the