d it. They
looked up as Patsy entered and acknowledged her "Good evening" with
that perfect indifference, the provincial cloak in habitual use for
concealing the most absolute curiosity. The storekeeper graciously
laid the hospitality of his stool and counter and kerosene-lamp at
her feet; in other words, he "cal'ated she was welcome to make
herself t' home." All of which Patsy accepted. She spread out the
newspaper on the counter in front of her; she unwrapped a series of
small bundles--ink, pen, stamped envelope, letter-pad, and
pen-holder, and eyed them with approval.

"The tinker's a wonder entirely," she said to herself; "but I would
like to be knowing, did he or did the shopkeeper do the choosing?"
Then she remembered the thing above all others that she needed to
know, and swung about on the stool to address the quorum. "I say--can
you tell me where I'd be likely to find a--person by the name of
Bil--William Burgeman?"

"That rich feller's boy?"

Patsy nodded. "Have you seen him?"

The quorum thumbed the armholes of their vests and shook an emphatic
negative. "Nope," volunteered the storekeeper; "too early for him or
his sort to be diggin' out o' winter quarters."

"Are you sure? Do you know him?"

"Wall, can't say exactly ef I know him; but I'd know ef he'd been
hangin' round, sartin. Hain't been nothin' like him loose in these
parts. Has there, boys?"

The quorum confirmed the statement.

Patsy wrinkled up a perplexed forehead. "That's odd. You see, he
should have been here last night, to-day at the latest. I had it from
somebody who knew, that he was coming to Arden."

"Mebby he was," drawled the storekeeper, while the quorum cackled in
appreciation; "but this here is a good seven miles from Arden."

Patsy's arms fell limp across the counter, her head followed, and she
sat there a crumpled-up, dejected little heap.

"By Jack-a-diamonds!" swore the storekeeper. "She 'ain't swoomed, has
she, boys?"

The quorum were on the verge of investigating when she denied the
fact--in person. "Where am I? In the name of Saint Peter, what place
is this?"

"This? Why, this is Lebanon."

She smiled weakly. "Lebanon! Sounds more like it, anyhow. Thank you."

She turned about and settled down to the paper while the "boys"
reverted to their original topic of discussion. There were two items
of news that interested her: Burgeman, senior, was critically ill; he
had been ill for some time, but there had been no c