“If he came in here and got the calves, it looks as if he meant business, all right.” Kent frowned absently at the white window curtain. “I've seen the time,” he added reflectively, “when I'd be all broke up to have Man get into trouble. We used to be pretty good friends!” “A year ago it would have broken my heart,” Val sighed. “We do change so! I can't quite understand Why I should feel so indifferent about it now; even the other day it was terrible. But when I felt his fingers--” she stopped guiltily. “He seems a stranger to me now. I don't even hate him so very much. I don't want to meet him, though.” “Neither do I.” But there was a different meaning in Kent's tone. “So you're going to quit?” He looked at her thoughtfully--“You'll leave your address, I hope!” “Oh, yes.” Val's voice betrayed some inward trepidation. “I'm not running away; I'm just going.” “I see.” He sighed, impatient at the restraint she had put upon him. “That don't mean you won't ever come back, does it? Or that the trains are going to quit carrying passengers to your town? Because you can't _always_ keep me outa your 'problem,' let me tell you. Is it against the rules to ask when you're going--and how?” “Just as soon as I can get my trunks packed, and Polycarp--or somebody--comes to help me load them into the spring wagon. I promised Arline Hawley I would be in town to-night. I don't know, though--I don't seem to be making much progress with my packing.” She smiled at him more brightly. “Let's wade ashore, pal, and get to work instead of talking about things better left alone. I know just exactly what you're thinking--and I'm going to let you help me instead of Polycarp. I'm frightfully angry with him, anyway. He promised me, on his word of honor, that he wouldn't mention a thing--and he must have actually hunted for a chance to tell! He didn't have the nerve to come to the house yesterday, when he was here with Fred--perhaps he won't come to-day, after all. So you'll have to help me make my getaway, pal.” Kent wavered. “You're the limit, all right,” he told her after a period of hesitation. “You just wait, old girl, till you get that conscience of yours squared! What shall I do? I can pack a war-bag in one minute and three-quarters, and a horse in five minutes--provided he don't get gay and pitch the pack off a time or two, and somebody's around to help throw the hitch. Just tell me where to start in, and you won't be able to see me for dust!” “You seem in a frightful hurry to have me go,” Val complained, laughing nevertheless with the nervous reaction. “Packing a trunk takes time, and care, and intelligence.” “Now isn't that awful?” Kent's eyes flared with mirth, all the more pronounced because it was entirely superficial. “Well, you take the time and care, Mrs. Goodpacker, and I'll cheerfully furnish the intelligence, This goes, I reckon?” He squeezed a pink cushion into as small a space as possible, and held it out at arm's length.