"Well--I want to ask you to do something very unpleasant. To evict a tenant. Mag Henderson." "That girl? But why?" "Your agent says she's months behind in her rent." "Smith talks too much. What if she is? I can afford to be patient with her. The girl has had a hard time. Her father seems to have deserted her. Oh, I know they're a shiftless pair, but half the prejudice against them is that they are strangers. I know what that is," she added bitterly. "I've been a stranger myself in a rural community. You'll have to give me a better reason than that, Philip." "I can," he said. She lifted her eyebrows. "There's talk then? I suppose so. There's always talk, if a girl 's pretty enough and unprotected enough. The poor little foolish Mag Hendersons of the world! Oh," she cried, "I wonder that men _dare_ to speak of them!" "I dare," said Benoix, quietly. "I've my parish to think of. The girl's a plague-spot. Vice is as contagious as any other disease. Besides, it 's a question of her own safety. She's been threatened. That's why the father left." "What?" cried Mrs. Kildare. "The 'Possum-Hunters'? You mean they are trying to run my affairs again?" It was several years since men in masks had waged their anonymous warfare against certain tobacco planters whose plans did not accord with the sentiment of the community. The organization of Night Riders was supposed to be repressed. But power without penalty is too heady a draft to be relinquished easily, by men who have once known the taste of it. Benoix nodded. "She has had warning." Mrs. Kildare's lips set in a straight line. "Let them come! They'll try that sort of thing once too often." "Yes--but it might be once too often for Mag, too. She--have you seen her lately?" The other looked at him quickly. "Oh," she said, "oh! Well, she sha'n't suffer alone. Who's the man?" "She will not tell." "Loves him--poor thing!" For a moment the priest showed in young Benoix' face. "Miss Kate! You speak as if that made a difference," he said sternly. "And doesn't it, doesn't it? Good Lord, how young you are! You'd better pray that the years may teach you a little human weakness. I tell you, Mag sha'n't bear it all. Whoever's concerned in this thing shall suffer with her." "I am afraid," said Benoix, reluctantly, "that would be--rather a large order." "Oh! It isn't--love, then." For a moment Mrs. Kildare stared straight in front of her. Then she wheeled her horse, the pity in her face hardened into disgust. "Go on, will you? And tell the girls to save me some of that ginger-bread." "Where are you going?" "To evict Mag Henderson." He protested. "But why to-night? Surely one night more! It will be very hard. Why not let Smith attend to it?" She gave him a bleak little smile. "My dear boy, if I had left all the hard things to my manager to do, Storm to-day would be just where Basil Kildare left it."