'I must go back,' she said to Howard. 'After all, I must keep my head and watch over papa every minute while she is with him.' 'May I come in, too?' he asked gently. 'Won't you believe me, Helen? And won't you let me help you?' She hesitated. Then she turned her head so that he could see her eyes. 'I am apt to have my hands full,' she admitted. She even smiled a little. 'Maybe there _will_ be work for both of us.' But when he sought to come to her side, she ran on ahead of him. The face which she presented at the door for Sanchia's vision was radiant. Even Sanchia was at a loss for the amazing alteration. How these two could have come to an understanding in two minutes baffled her. But as Howard presented his own face at the door there was no misdoubting that he and Helen had travelled far along the road which she had thought to close to them. 'What in the world has happened?' Guarded as was the tongue of Sanchia Murray it was human after all. Helen laughed merrily and gave her eyes for an instant to Howard's. Then, lightly, to Sanchia: 'We were just laughing over a story Alan was telling me. Yellow Barbee has a new girl.' Sanchia understood, and her face went red. Howard merely knew that for the first time Helen had called him Alan. Of trifles is the world made. Chapter XXIII The Will-o'-the-Wisp For the hour, if for no longer, the tables plainly were turned upon Sanchia. The high content which so abruptly had enveloped Helen and Howard was comparable to the old magic armour of the fairy tales which the fortunate prince found always at his time of need. Through it venomed glance and bitter tongue might not pass; as Sanchia's anger rose the two lovers looked into each other's eyes and laughed. Again Sanchia bit her lips and sat back. 'Dear old pops,' said Helen, going to her father's side and slipping both arms about his neck, ruffling his scant hair and otherwise making free with his passive person, thereby achieving the dual result of coming between him and Sanchia and giving a joyous outlet to a new emotion. 'I am not going to leave you, after all. And the West is the nicest country in the world, too. And Alan and I were wrong to run off and leave you as we did. We'll stay right with you now, and it will be so much jollier that way; won't it, Mrs. Murray?' Longstreet patted her hand; Sanchia Murray measured her anew. 'And I too,' ran on Helen, 'must take more interest in your work, your books. Now that we live right on the spot where the things are, the strata and eroded canons and--and relics of monster upheavals and fossils of the Pliocene age and all that--it will be so much fun to study about them, all together. Alan thinks so, I'm sure. Don't you agree, Mrs. Murray?'