om she proposed to accuse Suzanne
of insanity. Help to remove her was to be called. She told this to
Suzanne, who simply glared at her.

"Get the doctor, mama," she said. "We will see if I have to go that way.
But you will rue every step of this. You will be thoroughly sorry for
every silly step you have taken."

When the carriage arrived, Suzanne refused to get out. The country
driver, a French habitant, reported its presence at the car. Kinroy
tried to soothe his sister by saying that he would help straighten
matters out if she would only go peacefully.

"I'll tell you, Susie, if it isn't all arranged to suit you within a
month, and you still want to go back, I'll send you the money. I have to
go back tomorrow, or next day for ma, but I'll give you my word. In
fact, I'll persuade mother to bring you back in two weeks. You know I
never lied to you before. I never will again. Please come. Let's go over
there. We can be comfortable, anyhow."

Mrs. Dale had leased the lodge from the Cathcarts by phone. It was all
furnished--ready to live in--even wood fires prepared for lighting in
the fireplaces. It had hot and cold water controlled by a hot-water
furnace system; acetylene gas, a supply of staples in the kitchen. The
service to take care of it was to be called together by the caretaker,
who could be reached by phone from the depot. Mrs. Dale had already
communicated with him by the time the carriage arrived. The roads were
so poor that the use of an automobile was impossible. The station agent,
seeing a fat fee in sight, was most obliging.

Suzanne listened to Kinroy, but she did not believe him. She did not
believe anyone now, save Eugene, and he was nowhere near to advise her.
Still, since she was without money and they were threatening to call a
doctor, she thought it might be best perhaps to go peacefully. Her
mother was most distracted. Her face was white and thin and nervous, and
Kinroy was apparently strained to the breaking point.

"Do you promise me faithfully," she asked her mother, who had begun her
pleadings anew, corroborating Kinroy in a way, "that you will take me
back to New York in two weeks if I promise to stay that long? This was
still within the date in which she had promised to go to Witla, and as
long as she got back by that time, she really did not care, provided she
could write to her lover. It was a silly arbitrary thing for her mother
to have done, but it could be endured. Her mother, seei