, and you must have
settled that question in your own mind long ago. What's the answer?"

"Well, I'm here just now to tell you those cows are to be milked
before--"

"Yes, dodge it! You've dodged that question so long you daren't face
it. But there must be an answer somewhere, or there wouldn't be the
question. There's Riles, now; he doesn't know there is such a
question. He takes it for granted we're here to grab money. And then,
there's Grants. They know there is such a question, and I'm sure that
to some extent they've answered it. You know, I like them, but I
never go into their house that I don't feel out of place. I feel like
they have something that I haven't--something that makes them very
rich and shows me how very poor I am. And it's embarrassing to feel
poor among rich folks. Why, to-night George Grant stopped on his way
home to say a word to me, and what do you suppose he said? Nothing
about the weather, or the neighbours, or the crops. He asked me what
I thought of the Venezuelan treaty. Of course I'd never heard of such
a thing, but I said I hoped it would be for the best, or something
like that, but I was ashamed--so ashamed he might have seen it in the
dusk. You see, they're living--and we're existing."

If Beulah hoped by such argument to persuade her father, or even to
influence him, she was doomed to disappointment. Harris listened to
her patiently enough at first, but the conviction dawned upon him
that she had been reading some silly nonsense that had temporarily
distorted her young mind. Such foolishness, if allowed to take root,
might have disastrous results. His daughter must learn to centre her
mind on her work, and not be led away by whimsical notions that had
no place in a busy life.

"You're talking a good deal of nonsense, Beulah," he said. "When you
get older these questions won't worry you. In the meantime, your duty
is to do as you're told. Right now that means milk the cows. I'll
give you five minutes to get started."

Harris went to his room. A little later Beulah, with a light cloak
about her shoulders and a suitcase in her hand, slipped quietly down
the front stairs and out into the night.

CHAPTER IX

CRUMBLING CASTLES

At the foot of the garden Beulah paused irresolute, the suit-case
swinging gently in her hand. She had made no plans for the decisive
step events of the day had forced upon her, but the step itself she
felt to be inevitable. She was not in love wi