as that occupation
does n't seem to bore you. I 'll be back for dinner."

Miss Arsdale looked a bit worried and questioned Donaldson with her
eyes.

"He 'll be all right," the latter assured her. "Good Lord, a man with
an idea like that is safe anywhere. It's the best thing in the world
for him."

A little later Donaldson went up-stairs to his room. He took out his
wallet and counted his money. He had over four hundred dollars. At
noon forty-eight hours would be remaining to him. He still had the
ample means of a millionaire for his few needs.

He was as cool as a man computing what he could spend on a summer
vacation. He was not affected in the slightest by the details of death
or by the mere act of dying itself. He was of the stuff which in a
righteous cause leads a man to face a rifle with a smile. He would
have made a good soldier. The end meant nothing horrible in itself.
It meant only the relinquishing of this bright sky and that still
choicer gift below.

He rose abruptly and came down-stairs again to the girl, impatient at
being away from her a minute. She was waiting for him.

"This," he said, "is to be our holiday. I think we had better go into
the country. I should like to go back to Cranton. Is it too far?"

"Not too far," she answered. "But the memories of the bungalow--"

"I had forgotten about that. It does n't count with the green fields,
does it? We can avoid the house, but I should like to visit the
orchard and ride behind the old white horse again."

"I am willing," she replied.

"Then you will have to get ready quickly."

They had just time to catch the train and before they knew it they were
there.

The old white horse was at the little land-office station to meet them
for all the world as though he had been expecting them, and so, for
that matter, were the winding white road, the stile by the lane, and
the orchard itself. It was as though they had been waiting for them
ever since their last visit and were out ready to greet them.

The driver nodded to them as if they were old friends.

"Guess ye did n't find no spooks there after all," he remarked.

"Not a spook. Any more been seen there since?"

"H'ain't heern of none. Maybe ye took off the cuss."

"I hope so."

They dismissed the driver at the lane and then went back a little way
so as to avoid the bungalow. Donaldson was in the best of spirits, for
at the end of the first hour he had solaced himself