"I'm obleeged ter ye," she faltered. Then, with open and wondering admiration she stood gazing at the first "fine lady" upon whom her glance had ever fallen. Samson went over and took Sally's hand. "Drennie," he said, softly, "is there anything the matter with her?" Adrienne Lescott shook her head. "I understand," she said. "I sent the others on," he went on quietly, "because I wanted that first we three should meet alone. George and Wilfred are going to stop at my uncle's house, but, unless you'd rather have it otherwise, Sally wants you here." "Do I stop now?" the girl asked. But the man shook his head. "I want you to meet my other people first." As they rode at a walk along the little shred of road left to them, the man turned gravely. "Drennie," he began, "she waited for me, all those years. What I was helped to do by such splendid friends as you and your brother and Wilfred, she was back here trying to do for herself. I told you back there the night before I left that I was afraid to let myself question my feelings toward you. Do you remember?" She met his eyes, and her own eyes were frankly smiling. "You were very complimentary, Samson," she told him. "I warned you then that it was the moon talking." "No," he said firmly, "it was not the moon. I have since then met that fear, and analyzed it. My feeling for you is the best that a man can have, the honest worship of friendship. And," he added, "I have analyzed your feeling for me, too, and, thank God! I have that same friendship from you. Haven't I?" For a moment, she only nodded; but her eyes were bent on the road ahead of her. The man waited in tense silence. Then, she raised her face, and it was a face that smiled with the serenity of one who has wakened out of a troubled dream. "You will always have that, Samson, dear," she assured him. "Have I enough of it, to ask you to do for her what you did for me? To take her and teach her the things she has the right to know?" "I'd love it," she cried. And then she smiled, as she added: "She will be much easier to teach. She won't be so stupid, and one of the things I shall teach her"--she paused, and added whimsically--"will be to make you cut your hair again." But, just before they drew up at the house of old Spicer South, she said: "I might as well make a clean breast of it, Samson, and give my vanity the punishment it deserves. You had me in deep doubt." "About what?" "About--well, about us. I wasn't quite sure that I wanted Sally to have you--that I didn't need you myself. I've been a shameful little cat to Wilfred." "But now--?" The Kentuckian broke off. "Now, I know that my friendship for you and my love for him have both had their acid test--and I am happier than I've ever been before. I'm glad we've been through it. There are no doubts ahead. I've got you both." "About him," said Samson, thoughtfully. "May I tell you something which, although it's a thing in your own heart, you have never quite known?"