"No, by heaven, to-night!" fiercely and hoarsely muttered Gavot, "to-night or never for the brown and ugly Mam’selle Jo. To-night will make the morrows safe for me. If I stopped to consider, I could not put it through." With that Gavot, big, handsome, and breathing hard, strode from the tavern and took to the King’s Highway. The wind rushed past him; pushed ahead; pressed at Jo’s door with its warning. But she did not speak, and only when Gavot himself thumped on the panel was Jo roused from her revery and Nick from his puppy dreams. "Who’s there?" shouted Mam’selle, and clumped across the floor in her father’s old boots. She slipped on one of the rugs and slid to the entrance before regaining her balance. "It is I, Mam’selle, I, Pierre Gavot." Jo opened the door at once. "Well," she said with a calmness and serenity that chilled the excited man, "it’s a long way from here to Mastin’s and the hour’s late, tell your business and get on your way, Pierre Gavot. Come in, sit by the fire. My, what a wind is stirring. Now, then—out with it!" This crude opening to what Pierre hoped would be a dramatic scene, sweeping Jo Morey off her feet, nonplussed the would-be gallant not a little. He sat heavily down and eyed Nick uneasily. The dog was sniffing at his heels in a most suspicious fashion. Every hair of his body was on guard and his eyes were alert and forbidding. "Well, Pierre Gavot, what is your errand?" This did not improve matters and a shuffling motion toward Nick with a heavy boot concluded the investigation on the dog’s part. Nick was convinced of the caller’s disposition; he showed his teeth and growled. "Come, come, now," laughed Mam’selle, whistling Nick to her, "you see, Pierre Gavot, I have a good care-taker. That being settled, let us proceed." Then, as Gavot still shuffled uneasily, she went on: "Maybe it is Tom. I heard the other day that ’twas whispered among your good friends that unless you did your duty by Tom, there would be a sum raised to give the poor lad a chance—away from his loving father." Jo laughed a hard laugh. She pitied Tom Gavot with her woman-heart while she hated the man who deprived the boy of his rights. Gavot shut his cruel lips close, but he controlled the desire to voice his real sentiments concerning the bit of gossip. "Indeed there is no need for my neighbours showing their hate, Mam’selle. Tom’s best good is what I’m seeking. He’s young, young enough to be cared for and watched. I’m thinking more of Tom than of myself, and yet I ask nothing for him from you, Mam’selle Jo." "So, Gavot! Well, then, I am in the dark. Surely you could ask nothing of me for yourself!"