at the Seymour house, he did
not intend to miss any part of them.

"Better put Mrs. Coston on the bench and set Tom to rocking the cradle,"
said the young man, reaching for the plate of corn pone. "She's a
thoroughbred if ever I saw one, and does credit to her blood. But go
on--tell me about the birds. Are they flying high?--and the duck blinds;
have they fixed them up? They were all going to pot when I was there
last."

"Birds out of range, most of them--hard work getting what I did. As to
the blinds, they are still half full of water--got soaking wet trying to
use one. I shot most of mine from the boat just as the day broke," and
then followed a full account of what the party had bagged, with details
of every day's adventures. This done, St. George pushed back his chair
and faced the young man.

"And now you take the witness-stand, sir--look me in the eyes, put your
hand on your fob-pocket and tell me the truth. Todd says you have
been here every day for a week looking as if you had lost your last
fip-penny-bit and wild to see me. What has happened?"

"Todd has a vivid imagination." He turned in his seat, stretched out
his hand, and catching one of the dogs by the nose rubbed his head
vigorously.

"Go on--all of it--no dodging the king's counsellor. What's the matter?"

The young man glanced furtively at Todd, grabbed another dog, rubbed
their two ears together in play, and in a lowered voice, through which a
tinge of sadness was only too apparent, murmured:

"Miss Kate--we've had a falling out."

St. George lowered his head suddenly and gave a low whistle:--"Falling
out?--what about?"

Again young Rutter glanced at Todd, whose back was turned, but whose
ears were stretched to splitting point. His host nodded understandingly.

"There, Todd--that will do; now go down and get your breakfast. No
more waffles, tell Aunt Jemima. Bring the pipes over here and throw on
another log... that's right." A great sputtering of sparks followed--a
spider-legged, mahogany table was wheeled into place, and the dejected
darky left the room for the regions below.

"So you two have had a quarrel! Oh, Harry!--when will you learn to think
twice before you speak? Whose fault was it?" sighed St. George, filling
the bowl of his pipe with his slender fingers, slowly tucking in each
shred and grain.

"Mine."

"What did you say?" (Puff-puff.)

"Nothing--I couldn't. She came in and saw it all." The boy had his
elbows on the tab