rse to
practising upon whatever victims came to hand; even upon her spiritual
pastor and master.

"Jacqueline," he said gravely, "you are growing up. You must remember
it. Why did you talk to a strange man like that?"

She chuckled. "Like what?"

"You know what I mean."

"Well--because I wanted him to come and see us. He's a neighbor, and we
ought to be friends with him. And then--I'll tell you this, Philip,
because you're my chum--I wanted that author man to notice me! He
treated me like a silly child the last time. He won't again."

"I see,"--Philip smiled in spite of himself. "Nevertheless, you can't be
too careful and dignified with strange men, dear."

She recognized the change in his voice; a change that usually came soon
or late when people endeavored to scold Jacqueline.

"Now you're nice again," she said with satisfaction, slipping her hand
into his. "You don't disapprove of me, anyway, half as much as you think
you do. You might kiss me, just to show it."

He resisted gently. "No, my dear, you're getting too old for that."

"Too old for what?" she cried out.

"To kiss men. I told you you must be careful--"

She burst out laughing. "But you're not 'men,' you old goose!"
Unexpectedly she jerked his head down to hers, and gave him a resounding
smack on the cheek. "There! I'm going to kiss people I love, men or
women, till I'm as old as Methuselah--'specially if they're cross with
me. You may as well get used to it.--Now kiss me back, nicely."

Philip succumbed to the inevitable with as good grace as possible. He
wished, with a sigh, that this child of the woman he loved could remain
as she was forever; innocent, frank, unspoiled by the encroachment of
womanhood. Jacqueline was particularly dear to him, perhaps because of
her resemblance to her mother....

They found the man Henderson in a whimpering heap at the foot of a tree,
about which his arms were still tied. Vigorous rubbing restored the
circulation to his wrists, and a few drops of whisky from Philip's
pocket-flask completed the restoration.

"Now, then, you're able to walk. Go!" said Philip. "Get your things and
march. You were told to get out last night."

Jacqueline looked at him in surprise. This sharp, cold voice was quite
unlike Philip's usual gentleness with the unfortunate.

The man began to whimper and whine, "How kin I go? I ain't got no money,
and I ain't got the stren'th to walk. I'm jes' a pore ole man what don't
mean no ha