Haig mounted his pony, and rode up close beside her; and thus, in unbroken silence, they arrived at the door of the stable. There Haig dismounted quickly, stepped briskly around her horse, and almost before she was aware of his intention, lifted her out of the saddle, and set her on her feet--all very carefully and gently, but also very scrupulously, without an unnecessary pressure, without even a glance into her waiting eyes. What was the man made of? Why would he not look at her? Why did he not rage at her--if he could do nothing better? Well, the cat had at least seven lives left! She almost forgot to limp, but bethought herself in time, and gasped as he led her to an empty soap box at the side of the stable door. Having seated her there, he called out to the man on guard at Sunnysides' corral: "Where's Curly?" "Down by the crick," was the answer. "Bring him here! I'll watch the horse." Thereupon he took the man's place, and stood with his arms crossed on the top rail of the fence, his eyes fixed on the golden horse. And Marion felt a real pain at last,--a pang of jealousy. So he preferred to look at the horse, did he? If he had chanced at that instant to glance at her he would have seen a pair of blue eyes blazing with wrath. The two men came hurrying from the creek. "Here, Curly!" said Haig, resigning his post. "Miss Gaylord has hurt her ankle. I found her unseated down the road yonder." He paused, as if to let that be thoroughly understood. "I want you to hitch up the sorrels and drive her home." "Right!" responded Curly, going into the stable. Marion then did almost faint. She had not foreseen that manoeuver. "I'd rather not, please," she said, as sweetly as she could in her dismay. "Rather not what?" asked Haig, turning at last to her. "I'd rather rest a while--somewhere--" Her glance went past him in the direction of the cottage. "Then I can ride home--alone." "And tumble off in the road somewhere!" he retorted, with a touch of derision in his tone. "Oh, no!" she pleaded. "It's not as bad as that." "No matter! I can't allow you to take any chances," he insisted curtly. "Really, I need only a little rest," she persisted. "If I could lie down a few minutes--" her eyes again were turned toward the cottage. He saw what she meant, and frowned. "No!" he snapped. Then, checking himself, "I don't mean to be inhospitable, but you ought to know that's impossible." "You mean--Cousin Seth?" He shot a look at her that frightened her, but gratified her too. Was she rousing him at last? "Yes, if you like," he said, quietly enough. "I'm having a hard enough time with the fool without a woman being mixed up in the affair." "I don't understand," said Marion. "You don't understand!" he repeated. "Of course not. Women never understand--until afterwards. I'll make it plainer. I'm a bad man, as you have doubtless heard. What would Paradise Park say when it learned that you had been inveigled into my house?" She was silent a moment.