a big man, after all, Harlan," she
said, dolefully.

"Go in this way? What are you talking about, child?" he demanded,
choking, his fury getting possession of him. "I've been
disgraced--abused. I'll--but I mustn't talk to you now--the wicked words
might slip out."

But she would not loose his hand just then.

"I sent for you to come home because I heard father say that politics is
wicked business. But I didn't know it was as wicked as this. It's no
wonder they can't get the good men like you to go into it. If they could
it would be better, wouldn't it?"

Even in his distress it occurred to him that out of the mouth of this
child was proceeding quaint and unconscious wisdom.

"I wish it wasn't wicked," she went on, wistfully. "I've been thinking
as I rode along that I've been selfish. I'd like to see you a big man
like some of those I've read about. It was selfish of me to say I didn't
want you to get out of the woods and be a big man."

"I couldn't be one," he protested.

"Even a foolish little girl up here in the woods has got faith that you
can--and men who are really big don't forget their old friends. I don't
want you mixed up in any wicked thing, Harlan, but I wouldn't want you
to go away from me thinking I was selfish and jealous. That isn't the
right kind of a friend for any one to have. I've been thinking it over."

He stared at her through the dusk. This sudden flash of worldly wisdom,
this unselfish loyalty in one so young, rather startled him.

"That's real grown-up talk, child," he blurted.

"Is it?" The wan little flicker of a smile that she mustered brought
tears to his eyes. "Maybe it's because I'll be sixteen to-morrow.
Good-night, Big Boy!" This new, womanly seriousness was full of infinite
pathos. She had not released his hand. She bent forward suddenly,
leaning from her saddle, and kissed his cheek. "And good-bye, my
playmate!" she whispered. While his fingers still throbbed with the last
pressure of her hand, the black mouth of the big bridge swallowed her.
He listened to the ringing hoof-beats of her horse till sudden silence
told him she had reached the soft soil on the other shore.

He did not gallop to meet his grandfather. He walked his horse for the
long mile past the scattered houses of the village till he came to "The
Barracks."

When he was still some distance away he saw in the gloom of the porch
the red coal of the Duke's cigar. Even then he did not rush forward to
protest