point, she threw reserve to the
winds, and gave word to many thoughts she had meant to keep from him.
When she had finished, John Baronet sat with his eyes on the floor a
little while.

"Lettie, you want help, and you need it; and you deserve it on one
condition only," he said slowly.

"What's that?" she asked eagerly.

"That you also be just to others. That's fair, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," she agreed. Her soul was possessed with a selfish longing
for her own welfare, but she was before a just and honorable judge now,
in an atmosphere of right thinking.

"You know my son Phil, have known him many years. Although he is my boy,
I cannot shield him if he does wrong. Sin carries its own penalty sooner
or later. Tell me the truth now, as you must answer for yourself
sometime before the almighty and ever-living God, has Philip Baronet
ever wronged you?"

How deep and solemn his tones were. They drove the frivolous trifling
spirit out of Lettie, and a sense of awe and fear of lying suddenly
possessed her. She dropped her eyes. The old trickery and evil plotting
were of no avail here. She durst do nothing but tell the truth.

"He never did mistreat me," she murmured, hardly above a whisper.

"He took you home from the Andersons' party the night Dave Mead was at
Red Range?" queried my father.

Lettie nodded.

"Of his own choice?"

She shook her head. "Amos asked him to," she said.

"And you told him good-bye at your own door?"

Another nod.

"Did you see him again that night?"

"Yes." Lettie's cheeks were scarlet.

"Who took you home the second time?"

A confusion of face, and then Lettie put her head on the table before
her.

"Tell me, Lettie. It will open the way for me to help you. Don't spare
anybody except yourself. You need not be too hard on yourself. Those who
should befriend you can lay all the blame you can bear on your
shoulders." He smiled kindly on her.

"Judge Baronet, I was a bad girl. It was Amos promising me jewelry and
ribbons if I'd do what he wanted, making me think he would marry me if
he could. I hated a girl because--" She stopped, and her cheeks flamed
deeply.

"Never mind about the girl. Tell me where you were, and with whom."

"I was out on the West Prairie, just a little way, not very far. I was
coming home."

"With Phil?" My father did not comment on the imprudence of a girl out
on the West Prairie at this improper hour.

"No, no. I--I came home with Bud Anderson." Th