as on his feet in a moment.

"And all the time I'm supposed to be investigating the village and
making the acquaintance of this very Dirty O'Brien," he said. "You
see, Charlie had to go out, as I told you. He didn't say when he'd
get back. So----." He held out his hand to the elder sister.

"Did Charlie say--where he was going?" she inquired quickly, as she
shook hands.

Bill laughed, and shook his head.

"No," he replied. "And somehow he didn't invite me to ask--either."

Helen had slid herself off the table.

"That's what I never can understand about men. If Kate were going
out--and told me she was going, why--I should just demand to know
where, when, how, and why, and every other old thing a curious
feminine mind could think of in the way of cross-examination. But
there, men surely are queer folks."

"Good-bye, Mr. Bryant," said Kate. She had suddenly lost something of
her lightness. Her dark eyes had become very thoughtful.

Helen, on the contrary, was bubbling over with high spirits, and was
loath to part from their new acquaintance.

"I hated your coming, Mr. Bryant," she explained radiantly. "I tell
you so frankly. Some day, when I know you a heap better, I'll tell you
why," she added mysteriously. "But I'm glad now you came. And thank
you for bringing the books. You'll like Dirty O'Brien. He's an awful
scallywag, but he's--well, he's so quaint. I like him--and his
language is simply awful. Good night."

"Good night."

Bill held the girl's hand a moment or two longer than was necessary.
It was such a little brown hand, and seemed almost swamped in his
great palm. He released it at last, however, and smiled into her sunny
gray eyes.

"I'm glad you feel that way. You know I have a sort of sneaking regard
for the feller who can forget good talk, and--and explode a bit. I--I
can do it myself--at times."

Helen stood at the door as the man took his departure. The evening was
still quite light, and Bill, looking back to wave a farewell, fell
further as a victim to the picture she made in the framing of the
doorway.

Helen turned back as he passed from view.

"You going out, Kate, dear?" she asked quickly.

Kate nodded.

"Where?"

"Out."

And somehow Helen forgot all the other inquiries she might have made.

CHAPTER XIV

THE HOUSE OF DIRTY O'BRIEN

It was late at night. The yellow lamplight left hard faces almost
repulsive under the fantastic shadows it so fitfully impressed upon