"Don't ask me now. Do as I say, and you'll see!" And he
stepped inside.

Within the entrance, he paused for a moment. He had never been in any
room of the house except the library adjoining; and after a few
seconds, walking over, he tapped twice on the door.

There was no answer, and he stepped inside. The place was empty, but,
listening from the dining-room on the left he heard the low intermittent
murmur of voices in conversation and the occasional click of china.
Sliding doors connected the rooms, and again for an instant he
hesitated. Then, pulling them apart, he stood fairly in the aperture.

As he had expected, Florence and her mother were at breakfast. The doors
had slid noiselessly, and for an instant neither observed him. Florence
was nearest, half-facing him, and she was the first to glance up. As she
did so, the coffee-cup in her hand shook spasmodically and a great brown
blotch spread over the white tablecloth. Simultaneously her eyes
widened, her cheeks blanched, and she stared as at a ghost. Her mother,
too, turned at the spectacle, and her color shifted to an ashen gray.

For some seconds not one of the three spoke or stirred. It was Mrs.
Baker who first arose and advanced toward the intruder, as threateningly
as it was possible for her to do.

"Who, if I might ask, invited you to come this way?" she challenged.

Ben took one step inside the room and folded his arms.

"I came without being asked," he explained evenly.

Mollie's weak oval face stiffened. She felt instinctively that her
chiefest desires were in supreme menace. But one defense suggested
itself--to be rid of the intruder at once.

"I trust, then, you are enough of a gentleman to return the way you
came," she said icily.

Ben did not even glance at her. He was looking at the dainty little
figure still motionless at the table.

"If that is the mark of a gentleman, I am not one," he answered.

The mother's face flamed. Like Scotty, her brain moved slowly, and on
the spur of the moment inadequate insult alone answered her call.

"I might have expected such a remark from a cowman!" she burst forth.

Instantly Florence was upon her feet; but Ben Blair gave no indication
that he had heard. His arms still folded, he took two steps nearer the
girl, then stopped.

"Florence," he said steadily, "I have just seen your father. We
three--he, you, and I--are going back home, back to the prairies. Our
train leaves at eleven o'clock. The car