feet, blushing furiously. The door opened and
three small children were fairly blown into the room,--three swarthy,
black-eyed urchins who stared in some doubt at the "boss" and the adored
"teacher."

"Good morning, children," she cried out jerkily, and then glanced at
each of the windows in quick succession. "You don't suppose,--" she
began under her breath, turning to Percival with a distressed look in
her eyes.

"I wouldn't put it above 'em," said he, cheerfully.

"We should have thought of the windows."

"Thank God, we didn't," he cried.

He went out into the storm with the song of the lark in his heart.

"God, what a beautiful place the world is!" he was saying to himself,
and all the while the sleet was stinging his radiant face with the
relentlessness of angry bees.

CHAPTER XIII.

As he swung jauntily down the road in the direction of his "office,"
all the world might have seen that it was a beautiful place for him. He
passed children hurrying to school, and shouted envious "hurry-ups" to
them. Men and women, going about the morning's business, felt better for
the cheery greetings he gave them. Even Manuel Crust, pushing a crude
barrow laden with fire-wood, paused to look after the strutting figure,
resuming his progress with an annoyed scowl on his brow, for he had
been guilty of a pleasant response to Percival's genial "good-morning."
Manuel went his way wondering what the devil had got into both of them.

Olga Obosky was peering from a window as he passed her hut. He waved
his hand at her,--and then shook his head. He had passed her three
dancing-girls some distance down the road, romping like children in the
snow.

Buck Chizler was waiting for him outside the "office." The little jockey
had something on his mind,--something that caused him to grin sheepishly
and at the same time look furtively over his shoulder.

"Can I see you for a coupla minutes, A. A.?" he inquired, following the
other to the door.

"Certainly, Buck,--as many minutes as you like."

Buck discovered Randolph Fitts and Michael Malone seated before the
fire. He drew back.

"I'd like to see you outside," he said nervously.

"Well, what is it?" asked Percival, stepping outside and closing the
door.

Buck led him around the corner of the hut.

"It ain't so windy here," he explained. "Awful weather, ain't it?"

"What's troubling you, Buck? Put on your cap, you idiot. You'll take
cold."

"Plumb nervousness,"