“I think you are, perhaps, not acquainted with Mr. Cotterell’s character,” said she. “I am sure you would not wish to associate with a bad man.” “Why do you think he is a bad man? Do you know him?” “No, I don’t know him, but I am sure I am right in saying that he is a man of loose morals,” said Madame. “I don’t believe it,” said Olive. “Why not? How can you know?” “Because I have talked with him a great deal, and he speaks like a man with high aspirations, and not at all like the bad man you say he is.” “But what can you know of a man’s real character from a chance word or two as you run across him in an afternoon’s stroll?” observed Madame. “I don’t judge from a chance word, I have had long talks with him.” “Indeed! and where? Do you meet him here at the spring then, so often?” “I never met him at the spring before, but I used to meet him pretty often, when I was out cattle-hunting and he would generally accompany me for a bit. Sometimes too, he used to pass our house on his way cattle-hunting, and then he would look in and water his horse and stop to talk to me for a time,” said Olive in explanation. “Really!” said Madame looking keenly at her companion, “and did Ezra know of these visits?” “Ezra said he wasn’t to come any more, and I told Mr. Cotterell so to-day.” “Oh! and what did he say?” “He called Ezra a dog in the manger, and I do think Ezra oughtn’t to be so harsh about Mr. Cotterell. He would like to be a better man, I know, if he had any chance, and people were kind to him.” “Did he intimate that you could influence him towards the better way?” “I don’t see why I can’t try to use my influence in trying to make my fellow-creatures happier and better. You and Ezra are always talking about doing good that way. Why do you want to stop me the moment I see a chance of doing a little good?” “Because you would only do harm.” “No, I shouldn’t. A woman has great influence over a man. He said so himself.” “Mr. Cotterell said so?” inquired Madame. “Yes.” “It is a very dangerous thing for a young woman to attempt to influence men of that sort.” “You don’t know what sort he is, nor anything about him. You are only following reports. And how can you talk about the danger of influencing men? That is just what you are always doing yourself.” “With me it is quite different,” said Madame hastily. “That is what everybody says to me whenever I want to do what other people find it right to do. I hate being treated like a baby.” “You are very young and very pretty, child, and that makes it all the more necessary for your friends to guard you against dangers which you don’t perceive as clearly as they do.” “I hate being young and—well—pretty, if it’s always going to make me be treated like that,” said Olive angrily. “Like what?” “Like a naughty child. That’s what Ezra does, and he goes to you to ask what he should do to me, you know he does.” She was beginning to cry, just like a naughty child.