ss, and from a sense of duty
only, the other left undecided.

The circumscribed mind of Brassfield which, with the intensity of
observation rendered necessary and inevitable by its narrow field, had
noted, as he stepped out in the street, the intangible shifting of
relations in his surroundings incident to the mere passage of time in
the few days of his obliteration, now felt, as a blind man feels the
mountain in his approach, or as the steersman in a Newfoundland fog
apprehends the nearing of the iceberg, some subtle alteration in the
attitude toward him of the young woman by his side. Instantly he was
on guard and keenly alert.

"This is a case," said he, "of the prophet coming to the mountain. I
was on my way to you, and lo, I met you coming my way--let me hope
coming to me--after seeing me!"

"The mountain is at liberty to draw his own conclusions," said Miss
Waldron. "One may be reasonably charged with the design of meeting
every one in Bellevale when one goes out."

"The mountain, then," said he, "must be content with its place as a
portion of the landscape--happy if it pleases the prophet's eye."

"The prophet did not foresee--but let's have mercy on the poor hunted
figure. I was about to say that your occupation--or preoccupation--as
I drove down the street brought to my attention a new phase of our
scenery--a brilliant one. Is this the girl I used to know as Daisy
Scarlett?"

"It must be," said Brassfield, "and it surprises me that you speak of
knowing her as of the past. How does it happen?"

"The exile of school," she answered, "and the fact that her visits to
Bellevale have not been during such vacations as the girls would let me
spend with Auntie. It's my loss--I have lived too tame a life."

"I, too; let's take the trail for sensations."

"Let me begin with a mild one," said Elizabeth. "Estelle writes me
that she has been away from New York for the past month. So you are
not a convicted criminal, at least."

Brassfield scanned her face to get the revelation of every turn of
expression, as an aid to this mysterious reference to Estelle as
related to his visit to New York.

"That's good," said he promptly, and with marvelous luck, "even a
verdict of 'not proven' is a glad surprise on returning from New York.
By the way, Bessie dear, won't you drive over by that gang of men? The
foreman seems to want to speak to me."

Entirely oblivious of this dexterous turn, Miss Waldron complied, a