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e else--just possibly it might--or to a number of people, or even to the person himself, after he knew it? Or would you go ahead and trust to luck, especially when there's a chance that it mightn't ever come out?--though I'm quite sure it's true, you see, and that's what makes it so hard to know what to do." She looked up at him with bright expectancy. Clutching his head with both hands, he stared at her, alarm leaping in his eyes. "Would you mind repeating that slowly?" he began, in hushed, stricken tones. "No, no--I shouldn't ask that. One moment, please--now it all comes back to me. I see in fancy the dear old home, and hear faithful Rover barking his glad welcome. Ah, now I have the answer; I knew it would come. It's because one is a toiler of the sea and the other is a soiler of the tea--then the ball is snapped back for a run around the end and the man on third must return to his base." "I might have known you couldn't understand," she said regretfully; "but I can't possibly be more explicit. I thought if I stated the case clearly in the abstract--but I dare say it's a waste of time to ask advice in such matters." "You've wasted yours, my child, if that's the last chance I get. Do you really want help about something?" "No, dear, it wasn't anything. Never mind." "All right, if you say so. And now, me for the blankets!" When he had gone she stepped out into the night under the close, big stars. She breathed deeply of the thin, sharp air and looked over at the luminous pearl of a moon that seemed to hang above the cabin where Ewing's kid would doubtless be dreaming. Her lips fell into a little smile, half cynical, half tender. "I'll do it anyway!" The inflection was defiant, but the words were scarcely more than a whisper. She said them again, giving them tone. CHAPTER VI THE LADY AND THE PLAN They were chatting the next morning over the late breakfast of Mrs. Laithe. Her brother, summoned from the branding pen, where tender and terrified calves were being marked for life, had come reluctantly, ill disposed to forego the vivacity of that scene. He had rushed in with the look of a man harassed by large affairs. His evil beard was still unshorn, his dress as untidy as care could make it. He drew a chair up to the oilcloth covered table and surveyed the meager fare of his sister with high disapproval. "What you need is food, Nell," he began abruptly. "Look at me. This morning I ate t
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