wait, as Stott had said, for the action of the Senate. If it were
true that Ryder controlled the Senate as he controlled everything
else her father was doomed. No, they must find some other way.

And long after the judge and Stott had left for the city Shirley
sat alone on the porch engrossed in thought, taxing her brain to
find some way out of the darkness. And when presently her mother
and aunt returned they found her still sitting there, silent and
preoccupied. If they only had those two letters, she thought. They
alone might save her father. But how could they be got at? Mr.
Ryder had put them safely away, no doubt. He would not give them
up. She wondered how it would be to go boldly to him appeal to
whatever sense of honour and fairness that might be lying latent
within him. No, such a man would not know what the terms "honour,"
"fairness" meant. She pondered upon it all day and at night when
she went tired to bed it was her last thought as she dropped off
to sleep.

The following morning broke clear and fine. It was one of those
glorious, ideal days of which we get perhaps half a dozen during
the whole summer, days when the air is cool and bracing,
champagne-like in its exhilarating effect, and when Nature dons
her brightest dress, when the atmosphere is purer, the grass
greener, the sky bluer, the flowers sweeter and the birds sing in
more joyous chorus, when all creation seems in tune. Days that
make living worth while, when one can forget the ugliness, the
selfishness, the empty glitter of the man-made city and walk erect
and buoyant in the open country as in the garden of God.

Shirley went out for a long walk. She preferred to go alone
so she would not have to talk. Hers was one of those lonely,
introspective natures that resent the intrusion of aimless
chatter when preoccupied with serious thoughts. Long Island
was unknown territory to her and it all looked very flat and
uninteresting, but she loved the country and found keen delight
in the fresh, pure air and the sweet scent of new mown hay wafted
from the surrounding fields. In her soft, loose-fitting linen
dress, her white canvas shoes, garden hat trimmed with red roses,
and lace parasol, she made an attractive picture and every
passer-by--with the exception of one old farmer and he was half
blind--turned to look at this good-looking girl, a stranger in
those parts and whose stylish appearance suggested Fifth Avenue
rather than the commonplace purli