versation as they sped along the country road consisted
mainly of pointing out to her the cottages or fields owned by himself.
The information fell on deaf ears. The roughness of her host's tone to
the boy added one more item against him and lessened her hope that the
woman responsible for his existence could be a better specimen.

"I'm free," thought Geraldine over and over. "I don't need to stay
here." Of course the proprietary implication in every word the man said
arose simply from the conceit of a boor. She would be patient and
self-controlled. It might be possible still that she should find this a
haven where she could live her own life in her leisure hours, few though
they might be.

It was with a weary curiosity that she viewed the weather-beaten house
toward which they finally advanced. In front of it stood an elm-tree
whose lower branches swept the roof of the porch.

"That's got to come down, that tree," said Rufus meditatively.

His companion turned on him. "You would cut down that splendid tree?"

He regarded her suddenly vital expression admiringly.

"Why not, little one?" he asked. "It's makin' the house damp and
injurin' property. Property, you understand. Property. If I'd indulged
in sentiment do you s'pose I'd be owner of all the land I've been
showin' you?" He smiled, the semi-toothless smile, and met her horrified
upturned eyes with an affectionate gaze. "However, what you say goes,
little girl. You look as if you were goin' to recite--'Woodman, spare
that tree.' Consider the tree spared for the present."

The automobile drew up at the house and in high good-humor the master
jumped out and removed Geraldine's bag to the steps of the narrow
piazza. A woman's face could be seen appearing and disappearing at the
window, and Pete, the driver, looked with furtive curiosity at the guest
as she stepped to the porch without touching the host's outstretched
hand.

Rufus threw open the door. "Where are you, Ma?" he shouted, and a thin,
wrinkled old woman came into the corridor nervously wiping her hands on
her apron.

Geraldine looked at her eagerly.

"Well, you have to take us as you find us, little girl," remarked Rufus,
scowling at his parent. "Ma hasn't even taken off her apron to welcome
you."

At this Mrs. Carder fumbled at her apron strings, but Geraldine advanced
to her and put out her hand.

"I like aprons," she said; and the old woman took the hand for a loose,
brief shake.

"I'm ver