While she hesitated, Linda stepped to one side and made room for the "help" to pass, which Blanche Aurora made haste to do, the wonderful boxes clutched in her arms, and the fishhook braids vibrating with the double excitement of her gift and getting the better of her employer. Mrs. Porter watched Linda thoughtfully. When she and Miss Barry a few minutes ago had left Luella Benslow and her pampered hens, and their hilarious mood had quieted, the younger woman had at once brought up the subject of Bertram King, whose situation dwelt much in her mind. As they walked across the soft grass she took Miss Barry's arm. "Tell me about my cousin, Mr. King. How does he look?" "Like the last run o' shad," returned Miss Barry promptly. "I never met a belated shad." "Well, you've eaten 'em, haven't you? I'd just as soon eat a fried paper of pins." "You mean that Bertram is thin?" "Just so. He looks as if he'd been through the war, and so he has." "I feel as if I ought to go back to him." "Law! Don't leave me yet!" exclaimed Miss Barry in a panic. "You're the only person Linda can stand the sight of. Oh! if I'm not glad to get home!" The speaker inflated her lungs and stepped lightly. "You say she blames Bertram for her father's misfortunes." "Yes; and I guess she ain't the only one, from what Harriet says. Lots o' folks think my brother pinned his faith to Mr. King's judgment in taking on a new proposition." "Yes," returned Mrs. Porter thoughtfully. "I've heard it said." Miss Barry glanced around at her companion quickly. "Well, I hope you didn't take any stock in it," she returned sharply. "Lambert Barry had a backbone of his own. I'm surprised at his own daughter's not knowing him well enough to scout such a notion." "Bertram is very clever. He had been with him a long time." "Clever! I guess he is clever. I could just about worship that man for all he's done," was the warm rejoinder; "and if that cock-and-bull story was true about Bertram King dragging the bank into that Antlers thing that broke the camel's back, he's made up for it with pretty near his life's blood, working night and day to undo the damage." Mrs. Porter's eyes glowed with interest and surprise at such heat from the reserved New England woman. "You do feel that way! I'm so glad. Then, why doesn't Linda?" "Because if Mr. King laid down and died it couldn't bring back her father," returned Miss Barry slowly. Mrs. Porter looked away and shook her head. "How dreadful it seems," she said in a low tone. "Then you have no blame for Bertram?" "Not a particle." "What is the situation now? What has he been able to do?" "Wonders," returned Miss Barry sententiously. "He sent me a letter to the train. I ought to have given it to you as soon as I touched home. I ought to have realized that you were so close to Mr. King that it would mean a lot to you as well as to us. You'll never see the Linda that was before that letter came. It gave her new life."