a little pains with Mr. Meader and Mr. Austen Vane. Certain small
fires have been known to light world-wide conflagrations.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Victoria. "It isn't at all polite
to forget the person you are talking to."

"I haven't forgotten you," said Austen, with a smile. How could
he--sitting under her in this manner?

"Besides," said Victoria, mollified, "you haven't an answered my
question."

"Which question?"

She scrutinized him thoughtfully, and with feminine art made the kind of
an attack that rarely fails.

"Why are you such an enigma, Mr. Vane?" she demanded. "Is it because
you're a lawyer, or because you've been out West and seen so much of
life and shot so many people?"

Austen laughed, yet he had tingling symptoms because she showed enough
interest in him to pronounce him a riddle. But he instantly became
serious as the purport of the last charge came home to him.

"I suppose I am looked upon as a sort of Jesse James," he said. "As it
happens, I have never shot but one man, and I didn't care very much for
that."

Victoria got up and came down a step and gave him her hand. He took
it, nor was he the first to relinquish the hold; and a colour rose
delicately in her face as she drew her fingers away.

"I didn't mean to offend you," she said.

"You didn't offend me," he replied quickly. "I merely wished you to know
that I wasn't a brigand."

Victoria smiled.

"I really didn't think so--you are much too solemn. I have to go now,
and--you haven't told me anything."

She crossed the road and began to descend the path on the other side.
Twice he glanced back, after he had started, and once surprised her
poised lightly among the leaves, looking over her shoulder.

CHAPTER V. THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

The next time Austen visited the hospital Mr. Meader had a surprise in
store for him. After passing the time of day, as was his custom, the
patient freely discussed the motives which had led him to refuse any
more of Victoria's fruit.

"I hain't got nothing against her," he declared; "I tried to make that
plain. She's as nice and common a young lady as I ever see, and I don't
believe she had a thing to do with it. But I suspicioned they was up
to somethin' when she brought them baskets. And when she give me the
message from old Flint, I was sure of it."

"Miss Flint was entirely innocent, I'm sure," said Austen, emphatically.

"If I could see old Flint, I'd tell him what