getting wise to a home atmosphere every minute. You won't send me
away?"

He was scowling at the program again.

"Why are you called Penny Ante?"

"You object to all of my names. But this one was Betty's fault. She
introduced me as 'Aunt Penny,' and of course they put it backward."

"Who do they think you are?"

"Your 'lady friend' here for a visit," she answered with the little giggle
that always offended him. Then, appeasingly: "Mrs. Kingdon said it would
be better if only you and she knew who I am and why I am here at the
ranch."

"Go back to the house," he directed. "I'll be home in a few days."

Obediently she turned her horse and he rode in the opposite direction.

"Kurt--Mr. Walters!" she called entreatingly.

He turned in his saddle and waited until she rode back to him.

"There is something I want to tell you," she said, her eyes downcast, a
faint note of exultation in her voice. "I haven't taken a thing--or tried
to--or wanted to--since I've been here, and I've had lots of chances."

Receiving no reply, she looked up pleadingly, and was startled at the
transformation in his eyes, which were usually narrow, cold and of
steel-gray shade, but now were dark, shining and full of infinite pity as
they looked down into hers.

"I am glad to hear it," he said gently. "You know that was why I brought
you here. Now you must do more for me. You mustn't mingle with the men, or
repeat to-day's program. I want you to be like her--a house-woman.
Good-bye--until I come home."

He rode swiftly away, and she laughed softly to herself, stopping
suddenly.

"It isn't so funny after all; it's really pathetic. But--a house-woman! Ye
Gods! That is the last thing I want to be--or could be. It's all well for
a novelty, but for steady diet--oh, me! If Hebby could have heard the law
laid down to me, he'd be overcome with glee. Poor old Heb! I bet he is
still frothing at the mouth because I gave him such a neat slip. I seem,
however, to have only succeeded in changing keepers."

She rode on, her conscience smiting her now and then when she recalled the
look in Kurt's eyes.

"I don't deserve pity from him or anyone," she thought a little sadly.

She made no mention at Top Hill of having met the foreman. Notwithstanding
his orders, for three days she revelled in the companionship of Jo and the
men.

"We must harvest all the hay we can," she told him, "while Kind Kurt is
away."

On the evening of the third day, she fou