Mary laid down her work, and looked straight at Pippin with her honest blue eyes. That made Pippin blush and feel as if a blue knife had gone through him. To cover his confusion, he felt for his file, drew it out and whistled softly on it; then, seeing Mary's look change to one of open amazement, he fell into still deeper confusion. "It's a file!" he explained. "I always carry it. It's handy--" He broke off short, and made a desperate plunge. "I wondered if--if _you_ wondered--how I come to be so cocksure of that guy's bein' a crook. Did you?" "Well!" Mary hesitated a moment. "Yes! I didn't doubt but you did know, but--yes, I did wonder some." "That's what I've got to tell you. I've knowed that guy ever since we was little shavers. We was--you may say--raised together, for a spell; that is, we was learned together, anyway." "You mean--you went to school together?" Pippin leaned forward, his eyes very bright. "Bashford's school!" he said. "Bashford's gang. Sneak-thievin', pocket-pickin', breakin' and enterin'. Instruction warranted _com_plete. That's the school we went to, young lady. I know Nosey Bashford because I was a crook like him--only I will say I could do a better job--" Pippin's chin lifted a little--"till the Lord took holt of me. Now you know where I stand! And gorry to 'Liza!'" he added silently; "do you s'pose I've got to git off this song and dance every time I meet any person that I value their good opinion? I want you to understand the Lord ain't lettin' me off any too easy, now I tell you!" "But think," he assured himself, "how much easier you breathe when it's off your chest! I expect the Lord knows full well just who ought to be told things, and plans accordin'." But Pippin had never heard of the _Ancient Mariner_. Mary Flower had gone very pale, and her sweet face was grave; but her eyes still met Pippin's frankly. "Go on!" she said. "You've said too much, or you've said too little; either way you'll have to finish now. But be careful, for I shall believe everything you say." "Now wouldn't that--" murmured Pippin; then he was silent for a little, fingering his file absently. Mary thought he must hear the beating of her heart, but he did not, for his own was sounding trip hammers in his ears. She would believe everything--she would _believe_! Lord make him worthy--at least not leave him be more un-so than--Pippin drew a long, sobbing breath. At last he lifted his head. "I left that gang when I was eighteen years old. I'd broke Nosey's beak for him long before that, fightin' when we was kids. He was a mean kid. I see he has it in for me still, and though I'm sorry, in the way of a Christian, that I broke it, still I'm kind o' glad too." "So am I!" Mary spoke impulsively.