ket and completed her work. As she began to descend
with her burden she saw that the light of the kitchen fire, seen
through the windows, was augmented by a candle. Her mother was evidently
awaiting her.

"Pretty time to be fetchin' in the wash," said Mrs. Foster querulously.
"But what can you expect when folks stand gossipin' and philanderin' on
the ridge instead o' tendin' to their work?"

Now Lanty knew that she had NOT been "gossipin'" nor "philanderin'," yet
as the parting salute might have been open to that imputation, and as
she surmised that her mother might have overheard their voices, she
briefly said, to prevent further questioning, that she had shown a
stranger the road. But for her mother's unjust accusation she would have
been more communicative. As Mrs. Foster went back grumblingly into the
sitting-room Lanty resolved to keep the knife at present a secret from
her mother, and to that purpose removed it from the basket. But in the
light of the candle she saw it for the first time plainly--and started.

For it was really a dagger! jeweled-handled and richly wrought--such as
Lanty had never looked upon before. The hilt was studded with gems, and
the blade, which had a cutting edge, was damascened in blue and
gold. Her soft eyes reflected the brilliant setting, her lips parted
breathlessly; then, as her mother's voice arose in the other room, she
thrust it back into its velvet sheath and clapped it into her pocket.
Its rare beauty had confirmed her resolution of absolute secrecy. To
have shown it now would have made "no end of talk." And she was not sure
but that her parents would have demanded its custody! And it was given
to HER by HIM to keep. This settled the question of moral ethics. She
took the first opportunity to run up to her bedroom and hide it under
the mattress.

Yet the thought of it filled the rest of her evening. When her household
duties were done she took up her novel again, partly from force of habit
and partly as an attitude in which she could think of IT undisturbed.
For what was fiction to her now? True, it possessed a certain
reminiscent value. A "dagger" had appeared in several romances she
had devoured, but she never had a clear idea of one before. "The Count
sprang back, and, drawing from his belt a richly jeweled dagger, hissed
between his teeth," or, more to the purpose: "'Take this,' said Orlando,
handing her the ruby-hilted poignard which had gleamed upon his thigh,
'and shou