in your life before."

"No," he answered grudgingly.

The hand with which Rebecca held the sketch dropped. She turned her
attention to her lover, and a speculative interest grew in her face.

"That girl"--she said slowly, after a mental summing up occupying a few
seconds--"that girl irritates you--irritates you."

He laughed faintly.

"I believe she does," he replied; "yes, 'irritates' is the word to use."

And yet if this were true, his first act upon returning home was a
singular one.

He was rather late, but the girl Lodusky was sitting in the moonlight at
the door. He stopped and spoke to her.

"If I should wish to paint you," he said rather coldly, "would you do me
the favor of sitting to me?"

She did not answer him at once, but seemed to weigh his words as she
looked out across the moonlight.

"Ye mean, will I let ye put me in a picter?" she said at last.

He nodded.

"Yes," she answered.

"I reckon he told ye he was a-paintin' Dusk's picter," "Mis'" Harney
said to her boarders a week later.

"Mr. Lennox?" returned Rebecca; "yes, he told us."

"I thort so," nodding benignly. "Waal now, Dusk'll make a powerful
nice picter if she don't git contrairy. The trouble with Dusk is her
a-gittin' contrairy. She's as like old Hance Dunbar as she kin be. I
mean in some ways. Lord knows, 'twouldn't do to say she was like him in
everythin'."

Naturally, Miss Noble made some inquiries into the nature of old Hance
Dunbar's "contrairiness." Secretly, she had a desire to account for
Lodusky according to established theory.

"I wonder ye haint heern of him," said Mis Harney. "He was just
awful--old Hance! He was Nath's daddy, an' Lord! the wickedest feller!
Folks was afeared of him. No one darsn't to go a-nigh him when he'd
git mad--a-rippin' 'n' a-rearin' 'n' a-chargin'.. 'N' he never got no
religion, mind ye; he died jest that a-way. He was allers a hankerin'
arter seein' the world, 'n' he went off an' stayed off a right smart
while,--nine or ten year,--'n' lived in all sorts o' ways in them big
cities. When he come back he was a sight to see, sick 'n' pore 'n'
holler-eyed, but as wicked as ever. Dusk was a little thing 'n' he was
a old man, but he'd laugh 'n' tell her to take care of her face 'n' be a
smart gal. He was drefful sick at last 'n' suffered a heap, 'n' one day
he got up offen his bed 'n' tuk down Nath's gun 'n' shot hisself as cool
as could be. He hadn't no patience, 'n' he said, 'When a G--der