d abruptly in a plea. The slender body was trembling as with cold.
"Take me home, please. I want to--to think."

"Florence!" The word was a caress. "Florence!"

But the girl was already on her feet. "Don't say any more to-day! I
can't stand it. Take me home!"

Sidwell looked at her closely for a moment; then the mask of
conventionality, which for a time had lifted from his face, dropped once
more, and he also arose. In silence, side by side, the two made their
way down the long hall to the exit. Out of doors, the afternoon sun,
serene and smiling, gave them a friendly greeting.

CHAPTER XIX

A VISITOR FROM THE PLAINS

"Papa," said Florence, next morning, as they two sat alone at breakfast,
her mother having reported a headache and failed to appear, "let's go
somewhere, away from folks, for a week or so."

"Why this sudden change of front?" her father queried. "Not being of the
enemy I'm entitled to the plan of campaign, you know."

Florence observed him steadily, and the father could not but notice how
much more mature she seemed than the prairie girl of a few months ago.

"There is no change of front or plan of campaign as far as I know," she
replied. "I simply want to get away a bit, that's all." She returned to
her neglected breakfast. "There's such a thing as mental dyspepsia, you
know, and I feel a twinge of it now and then. I think this new life is
being fed to me in doses too large for my digestion."

Mr. Baker eventually acquiesced, as anyone who knew him could have
foretold he would do. His wife, also, when the plan was broached to her,
hesitatingly agreed, but at the last moment balked and declined to go;
so they left without her.

The small town to which they went had ample grass and trees, and a small
lake convenient. A farmer's family reluctantly consented to board and
lodge them; also to give them the use of a bony horse and a disreputable
one-seated wagon. After their arrival they promptly proceeded to
segregate themselves from their fellow-boarders. The first day they
fished a little, talked, read, slept, meditated, and smoked--that is,
Mr. Baker did, enough for two; and Florence assisted by rolling
cigarettes when the bowl of the meerschaum grew uncomfortably hot. The
next day they repeated the programme, and also the next, and the next.

"I think I could stay here always," said Mr. Baker.

"I rather like it myself," Florence admitted.

Nevertheless, they returned promptly on sch