"Don't go too fast. When you told me that he believed you to have left home because of an unkind step-mother, was that true?" "It was true. I did leave home and come to the city when I was but sixteen, because my father was a drunkard, and my step-mother abusive, and we were poor and I was proud." "Don't doubt that fact;" with an outward gesture of the supple hand. "But you told him that you had two big step-brothers!" Cora laughed. "A big brother is an excellent weapon to hold over the heads of some men," she suggested. "True," with an amused look. "Why didn't you brandish one over me?" "Over you?" laughing again. "You and Percy were two different men." "Much obliged," lifting his hat with mock gravity. "Well, we are 'two different men,' still; just let your pretty little head rest, and leave Percy to me." "I wish to Heaven you had made an end--" "'Ah-h-h. I have sighed to rest me,'" warbled Davlin. "Cora, my love, never put your foot on too dangerous ground." "Well, I do wish so, all the same," said she, with feminine pertinacity. "Now, tell me what your plan is. We want to understand each other, and have no more bungling." "All you will have to do will be to keep quiet and follow my cue. When I come down, we must manage it that I meet Percy in Miss Arthur's absence. The rest is easy; this Mr. Percy will not find his path free from obstacles, I think." "What game will you play?" "Precisely what I am playing now. I am your brother. That will explain some things that puzzled him some time ago," dryly. "I am your sole protector, saving the old chap, don't you see." The woman pondered a moment. "I think it will answer," she said, at last. "At any rate, it is the best we can do now." A little more conversation, and Cora was quite satisfied with that and other arrangements. Then the ponies were headed toward the village, and driven at a brisk pace, thus enabling Mr. Davlin to catch the afternoon train back to the city. No one at Oakley was any the wiser for his visit. It was no uncommon thing for Cora to drive out unattended, and she returned to the manor in a very good humor, considering the situation. Cora's drive had given her an appetite, and she had partaken of no luncheon. She therefore ordered a very bounteous one to be served in the red parlor. Mr. Arthur was enjoying his usual afternoon siesta; Miss Arthur was invisible, for which Cora felt duly thankful; and so she settled herself down to solitude, cold chicken and other edibles, and her own thoughts. Ever and anon she gazed listlessly from the window, letting her eyes rove from the terrace to the hedgerow walk, the woods beyond, and back again to the terrace. Suddenly she bent forward, and looked earnestly at some object, moving toward the stile from the grove beyond. A moment later, it appeared in the gap of the hedge. Cora leaned back in her chair, still observant, muttering: