Lawson made an impulsive step forward, drew a long hard breath, his hands clenched, though he did not know it; then, "Good night!" he said quietly, "and thank you for a very pleasant evening." VI "Frances," the professor had said every Court-day since she was old enough to be out on her own affairs, "Frances, this is Court-day," and that warning was sufficient. It meant that his daughter must not be far afield on the country roads in the morning when men from farm and mountain-cabin and homes near by and nooks far away would be riding by twos and threes--a led horse, perhaps, by one, a cow driven before another, to be traded in town--or driving a wagon-load of farm produce, a calf in the rear bleating prophecies of his fate; and that she should avoid the roads when these same men were going home, some of them the worse from their visits to the saloons dotted plentifully through the town, and disposed to be quarrelsome, and none too ready to give a woman the right of way. But most of all it meant that she must avoid the congested streets about the Court-house. This was an unwritten law of the town. This morning he forgot. His mind was still filled with thoughts of his visit and his friend, a man whose ways, unlike the professor's, had led him into many highways and byways of the world and taught him strange things. Their lives had not touched for many years and now the point of contact had sparkled with helpful brilliancy for both. Frances, used to being reminded, took no thought for herself. She ordered up Starlight for a morning's ride with some gay badinage over the 'phone as to his condition. "He's a little nervous this morning," Mr. Carver called back. "Hasn't gotten over his run-away." "Run-away!" repeated Frances indignantly, at her end of the 'phone. "Well, I'll tell the boy to rub him down well and bring him up. Don't ride him too hard." "Good-by!" called Frances shortly, as she rang him off. The town was quiet enough as she rode through and turned out Park street. The wide way was drifted with wet leaves; under the carpet of them on lawn and yard the grass showed vivid green; chrysanthemums flaunted their colors in every door-yard; at window or porch the rider glimpsed many a friendly face and bowed cheerily. As the houses grew more scattered the land fell away from the ridge over which the road wound showing sunlit vistas of valley and mountain to left and to right, crest upon crest towering away to the sky line. The coloring everywhere was brilliant after the storm of the night; the clay of the road, where it climbed the mountain-side far away, showed deeply red; the ruffled pools underfoot mirrored the blue sky; crows were calling jubilantly overhead; the wind blew softly against Frances' cheek. Starlight and his rider went on fast and fleet, and farther than his rider had intended.