re you were going to take her," Deforrest
insisted.

Bitter anger rose in Eb's throat. He had been balked at every turn he'd
taken against this red-headed girl, and instead of helping him,
Deforrest was aiding her. He did not intend that Madelene should suffer
any more, and he imagined his own home life would be more peaceful when
Tessibel Skinner was wiped from its horizon.

"If you'll have it plain," he cried triumphantly, "she's going to be
sent to a reform school! If ever a girl needed correcting, she does.
She's already been served with the warrant."

Young muttered under his breath. Holding out his hand, he said,

"Let me see the warrant."

Ebenezer pointed to the paper on the floor where Tess had dropped it.
Stooping, he picked it up.

"Look that over!" he said and handed it to the lawyer.

Professor Young took the paper, and before reading it, looked
reassuringly at Tess with that wide, white-toothed smile of his that
always cheered her heart.

"Sit down," he told her. "You do look tired, child."

With one swift glance at Waldstricker's face, she obeyed him.

Deforrest merely glanced at the paper in his hand.

"Oh, is that all you have?" he asked the constable.

"Yes, sir," the officer replied obsequiously.

"You're sure you haven't anything else?"

"Quite sure, sir," was the answer.

"That being the case," said Deforrest, quietly, "I'll match it
with--with this."

He drew from his pocket another paper which he tendered the officer.
After the man scanned it, he handed it without a word to Waldstricker.
The elder in his turn read it through. It was an order from the court
recalling the warrant obtained by Ebenezer Waldstricker for Tessibel
Skinner's arrest. The constable grinned sheepishly at Waldstricker.

"I guess that ends my usefulness here," he said, smiling admiringly at
Professor Young. "Good afternoon, miss! Goodday, gentlemen!"

Waldstricker, murder in his heart, took one stride toward Young, as the
door closed behind the departing man.

"How'd you find out this was to happen today?" he gritted through his
teeth. "I insist upon knowing."

"A little bird told me," grinned Professor Young. Then, glancing at
Tess, and seeing how white she was, there rose within him a righteous
indignation, and he went on, "You might employ your time to better
advantage than torturing--"

For a moment he didn't know what to call Tessibel. She was no longer a
child, no longer a little girl, although