," she said. "It was my fault--and we cannot let you go."

Clavering smiled. "I am afraid your wishes wouldn't go quite as far in
this case as they generally do with me. You and Miss Schuyler can't stay
here until I could get a sleigh from Allonby's."

He turned as he spoke, and was almost out of the shanty before Hetty,
stepping forward, laid her hand upon his arm.

"Now I know," she said. "It is less than three miles to Muller's, but the
homestead-boys would make you a prisoner if you went there. Can't you see
that would be horrible for Flo and me? It was my wilfulness that made the
trouble."

Clavering very gently shook off her grasp, and Miss Schuyler almost
admired him as he stood looking down upon her companion with the
flickering firelight on his face. It was a striking face, and the smile in
the dark eyes became it. Clavering had shaken off his furs, and the
close-fitting jacket of dressed deerskin displayed his lean symmetry, for
he had swung round in the entrance to the shanty and the shadows were
black behind him.

"I think the fault was mine. I should not have been afraid of displeasing
you, which is what encourages me to be obstinate now," he said. "One
should never make wild guesses, should they, Miss Schuyler?"

He had gone before Hetty could speak again, and a few moments later the
girls heard a thud of hoofs as a horse passed at a gallop through the
wood. They stood looking at each other until the sound died away, and only
a little doleful wind that sighed amidst the birches and the snapping of
the fire disturbed the silence. Then, Hetty sat down and drew Miss
Schuyler down beside her.

"Flo," she said, with a little quiver in her voice, "what is the use of a
girl like me? I seem bound to make trouble for everybody."

"It is not an unusual complaint, especially when one is as pretty as you
are," said Miss Schuyler. "Though I must confess I don't quite understand
what you are afraid of, Hetty."

"No?" said Hetty. "You never do seem to understand anything, Flo. If he
goes to Muller's the homestead-boys, who are as fond of him as they are of
poison, might shoot him, and he almost deserves it. No, of course, after
what he is doing for us, I don't mean that. It is the meanness that is in
me makes me look for faults in everybody. He was almost splendid--and he
has left his furs for us--but he mayn't come back at all. Oh, it's
horrible!"

Hetty's voice grew indistinct, and Flora Schuyler drew the fu