"I reckon I did!" he exclaimed. "Who wouldn't of been?" "Why?" "Why?" he repeated, confounded by her simplicity. "Why?" "Yes," she laughed. "That's what I'm anxious to know." "Wasn't the whole town the same way?" he demanded. "Did you meet anybody that didn't look surprised?" "But why should they?" "Good Lord Admighty!" he broke out. "Ain't you got any lookin'-glasses?" "I think almost all I have are still in the customs warehouse." "Then use Mamie Pike's," responded the old man. "The town never dreamed you were goin' to turn out pretty at all, let alone the WAY you've turned out pretty! The Tocsin had a good deal about your looks and so forth in it once, in a letter from Paris, but the folks that remembered you kind of set that down to the way papers talk about anybody with money, and nobody was prepared for it when they saw you. You don't need to drop no curtseys to ME." He set his mouth grimly, in response to the bow she made him. "_I_ think female beauty is like all other human furbelows, and as holler as heaven will be if only the good people are let in! But yet I did stop to look at you when you went past me to-day, and I kept on lookin', long as you were in sight. I reckon I always will, when I git the chance, too--only shows what human nature IS! But that wasn't all that folks were starin' at to-day. It was your walkin' with Joe Louden that really finished 'em, and I can say it upset me more than anything I've seen for a good many years." "Upset you, Mr. Arp?" she cried. "I don't quite see." The old man shook his head deploringly. "After what I'd written you about that boy--" "Ah," she said, softly, touching his sleeve with her fingers, "I haven't thanked you for that." "You needn't," he returned, sharply. "It was a pleasure. Do you remember how easy and quick I promised you?" "I remember that you were very kind." "Kind!" He gave forth an acid and chilling laugh. "It was about two months after Louden ran away, and before you and Roger left Canaan, and you asked me to promise to write to you whenever word of that outcast came--" "I didn't put it so, Mr. Arp." "No, but you'd ought of! You asked me to write you whatever news of him should come, and if he came back to tell you how and when and all about it. And I did it, and kept you sharp on his record ever since he landed here again. Do you know why I've done it? Do you know why I promised so quick and easy I WOULD do it?" "Out of the kindness of your heart, I think." The acid laugh was repeated. "NO, ma 'am! You couldn't of guessed colder. I promised, and I kept my promise, because I knew there would never be anything good to tell! AND THERE NEVER WAS!" "Nothing at all?" she insisted, gravely. "Never! I leave it to you if I've written one good word of him." "You've written of the treatment he has received here," she began, "and I've been able to see what he has borne--and bears!"