away. Aunt Nan and
Malcolm Keith were standing by the big western window which faced the
prairie and the distant mountains. Malcolm's arm was around Aunt Nan, and
her head was on his shoulder. As Vivian stood transfixed to the spot by a
strange Something, Malcolm bent his head, and--Vivian fled, unperceived!

That same strange Something, stronger than her fear of the silence or even
of Mr. Crusoe, was making her breath come in gasps as she sank into her
chair and tried to collect her scattered senses. Truly Life was being too
generous to her that day! So Malcolm and Aunt Nan loved each other! That
was clearly unmistakable. She was sorry she had intruded, though she knew
they had not heard her. In that last moment before she had found strength
to run away she felt as though she had come unbidden into a sacred place.
Her cheeks burned at the thought. How surprised the girls would be when
she told them! No, she would not tell! It was Aunt Nan's secret--hers and
Malcolm's!

Fifteen minutes later, still unperceived and to all appearances quite
forgotten, she sat in her chair and watched Aunt Nan and Malcolm go down
the lane beneath the cottonwoods, and on toward the foot-hills. They had
forgotten her very existence. She was all alone--alone with Mr. Crusoe and
the silence. At that very instant Mr. Crusoe again passed before the
porch--again paused to study the house. This time he held a key in his
hand--a large key on a string which he twisted and untwisted as it swung
from his big, brown finger. Vivian knew that key. It belonged to the
root-cellar just beyond the kitchen, and it hung in Mr. Hunter's office
above his desk. She had seen Hannah take it a dozen times, and once Mr.
Hunter had given it to Virginia, asking her to get some papers from a
desk he kept down there. Why should Mr. Crusoe want to go to the
root-cellar?

Something told Vivian that the time for her to act had come; that only she
could save the Hunter fortunes from oncoming disaster. As Mr. Crusoe
rounded the farther corner of the porch, and started in the direction of
the root-cellar, Vivian ran through the house and into Hannah's spotless
kitchen. A new sense of responsibility gave birth to a bran-new sense of
courage. Vivian, watching from the kitchen window, saw Mr. Crusoe go into
the cellar. That was enough.

Running to Virginia's room, she grasped the little rifle which stood in
the corner. It was the only gun in the house which Vivian had ever use