e who knew
her, meant breakers ahead for somebody, "Mr. Spencer was here
yesterday when I was riding with the Major, was he not? What did you
tell him about me?"

Mrs. Hill looked at Violet's blazing eyes and wilted.

"I--didn't tell him anything--much."

"What was it?"

Mrs. Hill began to sob.

"Don't look at me like that, Violet! He just dropped in and we were
talking about you--at least I was--and I had heard that Harry St. Maur
was paying you marked attention before you came west--and--and that
some people thought you were engaged--and so--and so--"

"You told Mr. Spencer that I was engaged to Harry St. Maur?"

"No-o-o--I just hinted. I didn't mean an-any harm. I never dreamed
you'd really c-care. I thought you were just amusing yourself--and so
did everybody--and I wanted Ned Madison--"

Violet had turned very pale.

"I love him," she said hoarsely, "and you've sent him away. He's gone
to Rainy River. I shall never see him again!"

"Oh, yes, you will," gasped Mrs. Hill faintly. "He'll come back when
he knows--you c-can write and tell him--"

"Do you suppose I am going to write and ask him to come back?" said
Violet wildly. "I've enough pride left yet to keep me from doing that
for a man at whose head I've thrown myself openly--yes, openly, and
who has never, in words at least, told me he cared anything about me.
I will never forgive you, Edith!"

Then Mrs. Hill found herself alone with her lacerated feelings. After
soothing them with a good cry, she set to work thinking seriously.
There was no doubt she had muddled things badly, but there was no use
leaving them in a muddle when a word or two fitly spoken might set
them straight.

Mrs. Hill sat down and wrote a very diplomatic letter before she went
to bed, and the next morning she waylaid Sergeant Fox and asked him if
he would ride down to Rainy River with a very important message for
Mr. Spencer. Sergeant Fox wondered what it could be, but it was not
his to reason why; it was his only to mount and ride with all due
speed, for Mrs. Hill's whims and wishes were as stringent and binding
as the rules of the force.

That evening when Mrs. Hill and Violet--the latter very silent and
regal--were sitting on the verandah, a horseman came galloping up the
Rainy River trail. Mrs. Hill excused herself and went in. Five minutes
later John Spencer, covered with the alkali dust of his twenty miles'
ride, dismounted at Violet's side.

* *