d a Jap servant. And there was
another time, I think"--the lad's eyes fixed her, contracted a little,
and sharp with curiosity--"when you and Mr. Dick Tanner gave me that
fizzling hot coffee--don't you remember?--in that awful blizzard two
years ago? And Mr. Tanner gave the horses a feed, too. Awfully good chap,
Mr. Tanner. I don't know what I should have done without that coffee."

Rachel was still deathly white, but she had recovered possession of
herself, and her mind was working madly through a score of possibilities.

"You're quite mistaken," she said coldly, "I never saw you before that I
am aware of. Please let go the reins. I can manage now quite well. I
don't know what made me feel ill. I'm all right now."

"You've got the reins twisted round the shaft, miss," said Dempsey
officiously. "You'd better let me put 'em right."

And without waiting for a reply, he began to disentangle them, not
without a good deal of fidgeting from the horse, which delayed him. His
mouth twitched with laughter as he bent over the shaft. Deny that she was
Mrs. Delane! That was a good one. Why, now that he had seen her close, he
could swear to her anywhere.

Rachel watched him, her senses sharpening rapidly. Only a few minutes
since Roger had been there--and now, this man. Had they met? Was there
collusion between them? There must be. How else could Roger know? No one
else in the world but this youth could have given him the information.
She recalled the utter solitude of the snow-bound farm--the heavy
drifts--no human being but Dick and herself--till that evening when the
new snow was all hard frozen, and they two had sleighed back under the
moon to her own door.

What to do? She seemed to see her course.

"What is your name?" she asked him, endeavouring to speak in her ordinary
voice, and bending over the front of the cart, she spoke to the horse,
"Quiet, Jack, quiet!"

"My name's John Dempsey, ma'am." He looked up, and then quickly withdrew
his eyes. She saw the twitching smile that he now could hardly restrain.
By this time he had straightened the reins, which she gathered up.

"It's curious," she said, "but you're not the first person who's mistaken
me for that Mrs. Delane. I knew something about her. I don't want to be
mistaken for her."

"I see," said Dempsey.

"I would rather you didn't speak about it in the village--or anywhere.
You see, one doesn't like to be confused with some people. I didn't like
Mrs. Delane."