William King caught his breath. No one could have heard the frightened note in her voice without understanding David's impulse. The doctor shared it. Evidently Sam had been making love to her, and her very innocence made her quick to feel herself rebuked! William felt an ardent desire to kick Sam Wright's Sam. But Mrs. Richie was herself again; she laughed, though not quite naturally, and sat down in the swing, swaying slightly back and forth with an indolent push of her pretty foot. David lounged against her knee, eying the doctor with frank displeasure. "I am sure," she said, "I wish Sam would attend to his ledgers; it would be much better than making visits." "Dr. King," David said, gently, "I'll shake hands now, and say good-by." The laugh that followed changed the subject, although warm in William's consciousness the thought remained that she had let him know what the subject meant to her: he shared a secret with her! She had told him, indirectly perhaps, but still told him, of her troubles with young Sam. It was as if she had put out her hand and said, "Help me!" Inarticulately he felt what David had said, "I'll take care of you!" And his first care must be to make her forget what had distressed her. He said with the air of one imparting interesting information, that some time in the next fortnight he would probably go to Philadelphia on business. "Can I do any errands for you? Don't you ladies always want ribbons, or something." "Does Mrs. King let you buy ribbons for her?" Helena asked. "Ribbons! I am to buy yarn, and some particular brand of lye for soap." "Lye! How do you make soap out of lye?" "You save all the "--William hesitated for a sufficiently delicate word--"the--fat, you know, in the kitchen, and then you make soft soap." "Why! I didn't know that was how soap was made." "I'm glad you didn't," said William King. "I mean--it's disagreeable," he ended weakly. And then, to David's open joy, he said good-by and jogged off down the hill, leaving Mrs. Richie to her new responsibilities of discipline. "Now, David, come here. I've got to scold you." David promptly climbed up into the swing and settled himself in her lap. Then he snuggled his little nose down into her neck. "I'm a bear," he announced. "I'm eating you. Now, you scream and I'll roar." "Oh, David, you little monkey! Listen to me: you weren't very polite to Dr. King." "O-o-o-o-o-o!" roared the bear. "You should make him feel you were glad to see him." "I wasn't," mumbled David. "But you must have manners, dear little boy." "I have," David defended himself, sitting up straight. "I have them in my head; but I only use them sometimes." Upon which the disciplinarian collapsed; "You rogue!" she said; "come here, and I'll give you 'forty kisses'!" David was instantly silent; he shrank away, lifting his shoulder against his cheek and looking at her shyly. "I won't, dear!" she reassured him, impetuously: "truly I won't."