"Very well, you needn't believe me." But just before reaching the house she again turned and faced him. "It hurts, Brent," she faltered, "to know you are thinking unkind things of me! Your own worldliness makes you utterly unsparing!" "I would rather not have you persist in this," he said gently. "It seems to be one of those cases where you can't tell the truth, so why should you go to the other extreme unnecessarily? I'm not asking you 'what is the matter?' or if you found your cigarettes! Please dismiss it! If you want Dale to meet you in that charmed circle, I'm sure it's a harmless pastime." She wheeled and left him, quickly running up the steps and into the house; but an echo of the pleading in her voice remained, and now gently pushed aside his ill humor which, in turn, was succeeded by a feeling of joyous relief;--because, hidden in the rhododendron thicket, a girl had whispered for him to have no fear--that Tom Hewlet would not threaten his peace again. In his surprise he had caught her arm and asked why she had come, but she drew back, whispering: "That blind girl! And, Brent, take this!" What had she meant again by the blind girl? And why had she thrust into his hand the little garnet pendant he had given her? For another minute he pondered over the strange complexity of girls, then sighed and smiled, and by a side door reached his room. CHAPTER XIV A MEETING OF RASCALS Sometime after dusk the following Saturday, Tusk Potter walked cautiously toward the home of Tom Hewlet. There was no moon, but a starry glow illumined the pike and he kept well beneath the overhanging trees; for Tusk had learned, through a dim sort of reasoning, that when he walked in life's comfortable shadows he usually walked away from trouble. He now reached the broken gate and for awhile stood regarding the house, listening to see what manner of sounds came from within. Being satisfied, he called: "Hey, Tom!" The door opened, and Mrs. Hewlet's whining voice answered: "What d'you want?" "Is Tom home?" he asked, in a half whisper. "What if he is?" she demanded. "Nuthin'," Tusk answered, shifting his weight and leaning against the fence. "Oh, is that you, Tusk?" she exclaimed more hospitably. "I've tuck so much quinine a body can't hear their ears! Come in an' set!" "Naw, I reckon not," he evasively replied. "Tell him to come on out!" The door closed and, after a wait of several minutes, Tom glided around the corner of the house. He preferred this to coming the direct way. There were many things in common between Tusk and Tom. "Hullo, Tusk," he said. "Hullo, Tom." They stood for awhile in awkward silence. Finally Tusk got out his knife and began to whittle on the gate. Tom watched this, then reached into his own pocket and produced a twist of long-green tobacco from which he gnawed off a chew. "Got any licker 'bout you?" he asked. "A mite," Tusk answered, and by mutual consent they moved farther down the road.