y on art. Don't
you think so?"

"She talks well on almost any subject."

"And Gunhild is a real artist," she said, looking at him. "Did she show
you any of her drawings?"

"No. I didn't ask her and she didn't offer to show them."

"Perhaps you were more interested in the artist than in her art."

"Yes, that may be about the size of it."

"Do you know, Mr. Milford, I can't fathom you. Sometimes you speak with
positive sentiment and dignity, and then again you are a repository of
slang. Why is it? Is it because that, at times, I am incapable of--shall
I say inspiring?"

"Yes, I guess that's about the proper thing to say. No. What am I
talking about? You are always inspiring, of course. The fault lies with
me."

"Such a strange man!" she said, meditatively. "Mrs. Stuvic declares she
doesn't know you any better now than she did the first day, but I
believe I do, though not much better, I must confess. I wish you would
tell me something."

"Well, what is it?"

"Did you know Gunhild before she came out here?"

"I had never spoken to her."

"Well, it's very strange. You got acquainted very soon. Oh, I know she
was out here quite a while, still--oh, you know what I mean. Yes, you
met her at the haunted house--once. More than once? Am I too
inquisitive? But I am so interested."

He acted the part of a politer man; he said that she was not too
inquisitive--glad that she was interested. The boy, pulling at his ears,
the bridle, turned his head toward her, and he caught the drooping of
her eye. Over him she had established a sentimental protectorate, in
accordance with a Monroe Doctrine of the heart, and resented foreign
aggression.

"So much interested in Gunhild, you know," she said. "Peculiar girl, not
yet Americanized. Perhaps it is her almost blunt honesty that gives her
the appearance of lacking tact. But tact is the protection of honesty.
Don't you think so?"

"I don't know anything about tact, as you understand it. I know what it
is to get the drop on a man, and I suppose the woman of tact always has
the drop. Is that it?"

"Yes," she laughed, walking close beside him. "A woman of tact is never
taken unawares."

"A suspicious woman, I take it."

"Well, a ready woman. And Gunhild is not dull, but she is not always
ready. Do you think so?"

"I'll be--I don't know what you're driving at."

"Get up," the boy cried, clucking.

"Perhaps I am a little obscure. But I thought you would understand."

"