won, and the prospect of
fried chicken composed him. Even the long hour before Puss, calm
and inviting in a white cap and apron, appeared to announce supper,
passed like a dream. When Dicksie rose to lead the way to the
dining-room, McCloud walked on air; the high color about her eyes
intoxicated him. Not till half the fried chicken, with many
compliments from McCloud, had disappeared, and the plate had gone out
for the second dozen biscuits, did he notice Dicksie's abstraction.

"I'm sure you need worry no longer about the water," he observed
reassuringly. "I think the worst of the danger is past."

Dicksie looked at the table-cloth with wide-open eyes. "I feel sure
that it is. I am no longer worrying about that."

"It's nothing I can do or leave undone, is it?" asked McCloud,
laughing a little as he implied in his tone that she must be worrying
about something.

Dicksie made a gesture of alarm. "Oh, no, no; nothing!"

"It's a pretty good plan not to worry about anything."

"Do you think so?"

"Why, we all thought so last night. Heavens!" McCloud drew back in his
chair. "I never offered you a piece of chicken! What have I been
thinking of?"

"Oh, I wouldn't eat it anyway!" cried Dicksie.

"You wouldn't? It is delicious. Do have a plate and a wing at least."

"Really, I could not bear to think of it," she said pathetically.

He spoke lower. "Something is troubling you. I have no right to a
confidence, I know," he added, taking a biscuit.

Her eyes fell to the floor. "It is nothing. Pray, don't mind me. May I
fill your cup?" she asked, looking up. "I am afraid I worry too much
over what has happened and can't be helped. Do you never do that?"

McCloud, laughing wretchedly, tore Caesar's last leg from his body. "No
indeed. I never worry over what can't be helped."

They left the dining-room. Marion came down. But they had hardly
seated themselves before the living-room fire when a messenger arrived
with word that McCloud was wanted at the river. His chagrin at being
dragged away was so apparent that Marion and Dicksie sympathized with
him and laughed at him. "'I never worry about what can't be helped,'"
Dicksie murmured.

He looked at Marion. "That's a shot at me. You don't want to go down,
do you?" he asked ironically, looking from one to the other.

"Why, of course I'll go down," responded Dicksie promptly. "Marion
caught cold last night, I guess, so you will excuse her, I know. I
will be back in an