ement of the episode had passed,
Phil hid the bag in a dark corner of the corn-crib and continued her
tramp.

* * * * *

Fred, having gone for a shower and change of raiment, was late to the
supper that Phil spread in the dining-room of the Montgomery farmhouse.
He seemed unusually grave when they met at the table, and Phil surmised
that Whittlesey had discussed Charles's plight with him fully. Amzi had
spent an enjoyable afternoon cruising in the neighborhood among his
farmer friends, and was in the best of humor. Lois, who had taken her
ease, reading and napping, declared that she must cultivate a closer
acquaintance with farm life. She pronounced it immensely interesting,
feigning to ignore the ironical glances exchanged by Phil and Amzi. She
exclaimed in a mockery of rapture over a bowl of scentless wild violets
which Phil had gathered. They were amazingly fragrant, she said, waving
her hand lately splashed with toilet water.

"The fraud! She hasn't been out of the house," Phil remarked to Amzi.

"Why should I go out and walk over the clods in my best slippers? I
don't return to Nature; Nature returns to me. It's much pleasanter that
way." She nibbled a sandwich, elbows on table, and asked if Montgomery
still indulged itself in picnics, a form of recreation which she
associated only with a youthful horror of chigres.

"Met Jack Whittlesey again, on my way back," said Amzi. "What's he
hanging round here for?"

Fred looked up suddenly, the color deepening in his face.

"Jack's always looking for somebody," said Phil lamely, seeking to turn
the talk. "He must dream that he's looking for people. I shouldn't like
his job."

"He's looking for Charlie," said Fred, raising his head squarely and
speaking directly across the table to Amzi. "Jack thinks he's hiding
about here somewhere."

Amzi blew out his cheeks to hide his embarrassment. It was not his way
to cause pain, and there was a hurt, unhappy look in Fred's eyes. And
Amzi liked Fred--liked his simplicity and earnestness, and stubborn
pluck, his manly attitude in adversity.

"How absurd," murmured Lois, regarding critically one of Phil's deviled
eggs, made, by the way, after Rose Bartlett's recipe.

"I thought that was all a bluff about dragging Charlie into the
traction business," remarked Amzi, who had not thought anything of the
kind.

"He never surrendered the bonds he got from father," said Fred,
relieved, now that t