g led by an impulse
for which she would be sorry.

But she was at a pitch where the voice of caution had no weight; she
wanted what she wanted and in her heart she knew that she was going to
Essie Tisdale with the intention of inflicting physical pain. Nothing
less would satisfy her. Yet, when the door opened in response to her
knock, her upper lip stretched in its straight, mirthless smile.

"Hello, Ess!" She stepped back a bit into the dimly lighted corridor and
the girl all but shrank from the malice glowing in her eyes.

Essie did not immediately respond, so she asked in mock humility--

"Can't I come in, Mrs. Dubois?"

She saw the girl wince at the name by which no one as yet had called
her.

"Why this timidity, this unexpected politeness, when it's not usual for
you even to knock?"

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

"True enough, Mrs. Dubois, but naturally a poor country doctor like me
would hesitate before bolting in upon the privacy of a rich widow."

"If you use 'poor' in the sense of incompetent I am afraid I must agree
with you," was the unexpected answer.

"Ah, beginning to feel your oats, my dear." She slouched into the
nearest chair and flung her hat carelessly upon the floor.

"You notice it, my dear?" mimicked Essie Tisdale.

"When a range cayuse has a few square meals he gets onery."

"While they merely give a well-bred horse spirit."

Dr. Harpe looked at her searchingly. There was a change in Essie
Tisdale. She had a new confidence of manner, a cool poise that was older
than her years, while that intangible something which she could never
crush looked at her more defiantly than ever from the girl's sparkling
eyes. She had a feeling that Essie Tisdale welcomed her coming.
Certainly her assurance and animation was strangely at variance with her
precarious position. What had happened? Dr. Harpe intended to learn
before she left the room.

"At any rate you've paid high for your oats, Ess," she said finally.

The girl agreed coolly--

"Very."

"And you're not done paying," she added significantly.

"That remains to be seen."

Dr. Harpe's eyes narrowed in thought.

"Ess," in a patronizing drawl, "why don't you pull your freight? I'll
advance you the money myself."

"Run away? Why?"

"You're going to be arrested--that's a straight tip. You may get off,
but think what you'll have to go through first. Skip till things simmer
down. They'll not go after you."

The