her handkerchief pressed to her
face. Another woman came out of the depot and hurried toward the phaeton,
crying, "Katharine, dear, what is the matter?"

Everett hesitated a moment in painful embarrassment, then lifted his hat
and passed on. He was accustomed to sudden recognitions in the most
impossible places, especially from women.

While he was breakfasting the next morning, the head waiter leaned over
his chair to murmur that there was a gentleman waiting to see him in the
parlour. Everett finished his coffee, and went in the direction
indicated, where he found his visitor restlessly pacing the floor. His
whole manner betrayed a high degree of agitation, though his physique was
not that of a man whose nerves lie near the surface. He was something
below medium height, square-shouldered and solidly built. His thick,
closely cut hair was beginning to show grey about the ears, and his
bronzed face was heavily lined. His square brown hands were locked behind
him, and he held his shoulders like a man conscious of responsibilities,
yet, as he turned to greet Everett, there was an incongruous diffidence
in his address.

"Good-morning, Mr. Hilgarde," he said, extending his hand; "I found your
name on the hotel register. My name is Gaylord. I'm afraid my sister
startled you at the station last night, and I've come around to explain."

"Ah! the young lady in the phaeton? I'm sure I didn't know whether I had
anything to do with her alarm or not. If I did, it is I who owe an
apology."

The man coloured a little under the dark brown of his face.

"Oh, it's nothing you could help, sir, I fully understand that. You see,
my sister used to be a pupil of your brother's, and it seems you favour
him; when the switch-engine threw a light on your face, it startled her."

Everett wheeled about in his chair. "Oh! _Katharine_ Gaylord! Is it
possible! Why, I used to know her when I was a boy. What on
earth--"

"Is she doing here?" Gaylord grimly filled out the pause. "You've got at
the heart of the matter. You know my sister had been in bad health for a
long time?"

"No. The last I knew of her she was singing in London. My brother and I
correspond infrequently, and seldom get beyond family matters. I am
deeply sorry to hear this."

The lines in Charley Gaylord's brow relaxed a little.

"What I'm trying to say, Mr. Hilgarde, is that she wants to see you.
She's set on it. We live several miles out of town, but my rig's below,
and