ve, too. You know all about it; but I'd not care if I
was you."

Marjie was on her guard in a moment.

"I don't care for what I don't know, Lettie," she replied.

"Nor what you do, neither. I wouldn't if I was you. He ain't worth it;
and it gives better folks a chance for what they want, anyhow."

Lettie's low brows and cunning black eyes were unendurable to the girl
she was tormenting.

"Well, I don't know what you are talking about," and Marjie would have
passed on, but Lettie intercepted her.

"You know that rich Melrose girl's gone back to Topeka?"

"Oh, yes," Marjie spoke indifferently; "she went last evening, I was
told."

"Well, this morning Phil Baronet went after her, left Springvale for
good and all. O'mie says so, and he knows all Phil knows. Marjie, she's
rich; and Phil won't marry nobody but a rich girl. You know you ain't
got what you had when your pa was alive."

Yes, Marjie knew that.

"Well he's gone anyhow, and I don't care."

"Why should you care?" Marjie could not help the retort. She was stung
to the quick in every nerve. Lettie's face blazed with anger.

"Or you?" she stormed. "He was with me last. I can prove it, and a lot
more things you'd never want to hear. But you'll never be his girl
again."

Marjie turned toward the cliff just as O'mie appeared through the bushes
and stepped behind Lettie.

"Oh, good-evening, lovely ladies; delighted to meet you," he hailed
them.

Marjie smiled at him, but Lettie gave a sudden start.

"Oh, O'mie, what are you forever tagging me for?" She spoke angrily and
without another word to Marjie she hurried down the hill.

"I tag!" O'mie grinned. "I'd as soon tag Satan, only I've just got to do
it." But his face changed when he turned to Marjie. "Little girl, I
overheard the lady. Lovely spirit that! I just can't help dancin'
attendance on it. But, Marjie, I've come up here, knowin' Phil had gone
and wasn't in my way, 'cause I wanted to show you somethin'. Yes, he's
gone. Left early this mornin'. Never mind that, right now."

He led the way through the bushes and they sat down together. I cannot
say what Marjie thought as she looked out on the landscape I had watched
in loneliness the night before. It was O'mie, and not his companion, who
told me long afterwards of this evening.

"I thought you were away on a ten days' vacation, O'mie. Dever said you
were." She could not bear the silence.

"I'm on a tin days' vacation, but I'm not away, Marji