safe. But out here--"

"Stop!" thundered the man. "If you know enough to stop. Stop! or I'll
cut your cursed tongue out and make you stop. And then, I suppose, you'd
gurgle. That's not what I want--though I'll take it. I've told _you_,
time and again, that I want the paymaster's money. That isn't right
under my hand--and where is it? I'll put daylight through that little
false heart of yours if you don't give it to me without five more
words--"

"And I've told you just as often that I've nothing to do with the
paymaster's money, and I wish you would put daylight _anywhere_, for
then my husband would come home and make an end of you!" And with the
great limpid tears overflowing her blue eyes, Rose Laughton knew that
the face she turned up at him was enough to melt the sternest heart
going.

"Do you mean to tell me--" said he, evidently wavering, and possibly
inclining to doubt if, after all, she were not telling the truth, as no
man in his senses would leave such a sum of money in the keeping of such
a simpleton.

"I don't mean to tell you anything!" she cried. "You won't believe a
word I say, and I never had any one doubt my word before. I _hate_ to
have you take that fifteen dollars, though. You never would in the
world, if you knew how much self-denial it stands for. Every time I
think I would like an ice-cream, out in this wilderness, where you might
as well ask for an iceberg, I've made Tom give me the _price_ of one.
You won't find anything but ribbons _there_. And when I've felt as if I
should go wild if I couldn't have a box of Huyler's candy, I've made Tom
give me the price of _that_. There's only powder and tweezers and
frizzes in those boxes," as he went over the top of the dressing-case,
still keeping a lookout on her. "And when we were all out of lager and
apollinaris, and Tom couldn't--that's my laces, and I wish you wouldn't
finger them; I don't believe your hands are clean--and Tom couldn't get
anything to drink, I've made him put in the price of a drink, and lots
of ten-cent pieces came that way, and--But I don't imagine you care to
hear about all that. What makes you look at me so?" For the man had left
his search again, and his glance was piercing her through and through.
"Oh, your eyes are like augers turning to live coals!" she cried. "Is
that the way you look at your wife? Do you look at your children the
same way?"

"That lay won't work," said he, with another grin. "I ain't got no
feelings