ve been here."

With that Nort suddenly jumped up, as though some important thought had
just occurred to him, and rushed out of the room.

"Well, I never!" exclaimed Harriet.

I succeeded in catching him in the hallway.

"Hempfield would not see these things as Miss Grayson does," he said.

"Nort," said I, "Harriet _is_ Hempfield."

He paused just a moment.

"I think Anthy--Miss Doane--will understand," he said.

With that he rushed out in the dark. He made the distance to town, I
think, in record time. It was well past nine o'clock when he arrived at
the common, and the town was silent with a silence that broods over it
only on Sunday nights. He went past the printing-office without looking
around. It was in the neighbourhood of a quarter to ten when he arrived
at Anthy's gate. An odd time for a call at Hempfield, you say! It was,
indeed.

But there was a light in the window. Nort went up the steps and rang the
bell. He had never before felt quite as he did at that moment.

Anthy herself opened the door. Nort stepped in quickly and, for a
moment, was unable to say a word. Anthy retreated a step or two.

[Illustration: "I tell you, Miss Doane," said Nort explosively, "the
only way to make a success of the _Star_ is to publish the truth about
Hempfield----"]

"I tell you, Miss Doane," said Nort explosively, "the only way to make a
success of the _Star_ is to publish the truth about Hempfield----"

At that moment Nort happened to glance through the wide door of the
library. It was a comfortable, old-fashioned room, and the evening
being a little cool a cheerful fire was blazing on the hearth. In a low
chair under the light, seeming perfectly at home, sat Ed Smith.

The words died on Nort's lips. He stood for a moment rigid and silent,
facing Anthy. Ed had turned his head and was looking at them. No one
uttered a sound.

Nort was never able afterward to account for what he did at that moment.
He turned quickly, still without saying a word, rushed out of the house,
ran down the steps, fell over a honeysuckle bush, picked himself up
again, bumped into the gate--and found himself in the middle of the
road, in the dark, bare-headed.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XII

THE EXPLOSION

When I was younger than I am now--not so very long ago, either!--I
thought I should like to make over some of my neighbours. I thought I
could improve on the processes of the Creator, who was apparently wobbly
in his mora