g of the same
thing--of the same man. He repeated a question.

"What brings you out here, Jo?" he asked gently. "Dorland," she
answered, her face setting into determination and anxiety.

His face became pinched. "Dorl!" he said heavily. "What for, Jo? What do
you want with Dorl?"

"When Cynthy died she left her five hundred dollars a year to the baby,
and--"

"Yes, yes, I know. Well, Jo?"

"Well, it was all right for five years--Dorland paid it in; but for five
years he hasn't paid anything. He's taken it, stolen it from his own
child by his own honest wife. I've come to get it--anyway, to stop him
from doing it any more. His own child--it puts murder in my heart, Nett!
I could kill him."

He nodded grimly. "That's likely. And you've kept, Dorl's child with
your own money all these years?"

"I've got four hundred dollars a year, Nett, you know; and I've been
dressmaking--they say I've got taste," she added, with a whimsical
smile.

Nett nodded his head. "Five years. That's twenty-five hundred dollars
he's stolen from his own child. It's eight years old now, isn't it?"

"Bobby is eight and a half," she answered.

"And his schooling, and his clothing, and everything; and you have to
pay for it all?"

"Oh, I don't mind, Nett, it isn't that. Bobby is Cynthy's child; and I
love him--love him; but I want him to have his rights. Dorl must give up
his hold on that money--or--"

He nodded gravely. "Or you'll set the law on him?"

"It's one thing or the other. Better to do it now when Bobby is young
and can't understand."

"Or read the newspapers," he commented thoughtfully.

"I don't think I've a hard heart," she continued, "but I'd like to
punish him, if it wasn't that he's your brother, Nett; and if it wasn't
for Bobby. Dorland was dreadfully cruel, even to Cynthy."

"How did you know he was up here?" he asked. "From the lawyer that pays
over the money. Dorland has had it sent out here to Kowatin this two
years. And he sent word to the lawyer a month ago that he wanted it to
get here as usual. The letter left the same day as I did, and it got
here yesterday with me, I suppose. He'll be after it-perhaps to-day. He
wouldn't let it wait long, Dorl wouldn't."

Foyle started. "To-day--to-day--"

There was a gleam in his eyes, a setting of the lips, a line sinking
into the forehead between the eyes.

"I've been watching for him all day, and I'll watch till he comes. I'm
going to say some things to him that