"This is a case," said he, "of the prophet coming to the mountain. I was on my way to you, and lo, I met you coming my way--let me hope coming to me--after seeing me!" "The mountain is at liberty to draw his own conclusions," said Miss Waldron. "One may be reasonably charged with the design of meeting every one in Bellevale when one goes out." "The mountain, then," said he, "must be content with its place as a portion of the landscape--happy if it pleases the prophet's eye." "The prophet did not foresee--but let's have mercy on the poor hunted figure. I was about to say that your occupation--or preoccupation--as I drove down the street brought to my attention a new phase of our scenery--a brilliant one. Is this the girl I used to know as Daisy Scarlett?" "It must be," said Brassfield, "and it surprises me that you speak of knowing her as of the past. How does it happen?" "The exile of school," she answered, "and the fact that her visits to Bellevale have not been during such vacations as the girls would let me spend with Auntie. It's my loss--I have lived too tame a life." "I, too; let's take the trail for sensations." "Let me begin with a mild one," said Elizabeth. "Estelle writes me that she has been away from New York for the past month. So you are not a convicted criminal, at least." Brassfield scanned her face to get the revelation of every turn of expression, as an aid to this mysterious reference to Estelle as related to his visit to New York. "That's good," said he promptly, and with marvelous luck, "even a verdict of 'not proven' is a glad surprise on returning from New York. By the way, Bessie dear, won't you drive over by that gang of men? The foreman seems to want to speak to me." Entirely oblivious of this dexterous turn, Miss Waldron complied, and drew up to the place where Barney Conlon's gang still labored in the trench. "What is it, Conlon?" asked Brassfield. "I was wonderin', sir," said Conlon, hat in hand, "if I could see you at your office in a half-hour or so. I'd not ask it, sir, if it wasn't important. It's about the business you was speakin' to me about this marnin'." "Ah, yes: the pipe-line," said Brassfield. "Be at the office in half an hour, Conlon. Drive to the top of the hill, William. So goes our search for new thrills--road runs slap into pipe-lines and business, dearie." "Well, we mustn't find fault with it for that," said she. "I've wanted to say to you--since the other evening--that I can see widening vistas showing oceans of good things I never reckoned on in the least. And when I get unreasonable and generally brutal and abusive, I am not really and fundamentally so any more than I am now!" "I know, dearest; I know, Bessie. And, now, don't give yourself a minute's uneasiness about anything that took place. I apologize for everything out of the proper which I said----" "Which you _said_?"