"Won't you come in? Maybe you're not going to go just yet." He entered and she thought that as he glanced at Hepburn, who did not look up, his eyes danced with a flicker of delight. "I don't know as I can stay, ma'am. I told your foreman a little while ago that I'd be going. Somebody's got to go, and it may as well be one as another." "Don't you think my wishes should be consulted?" she asked. He twirled his hat, looking at her with a half smile. "This is your outfit, ma'am. I should think your wishes ought to go, but it won't do for you to start in with more trouble than's necessary." "But if I want you and Mr. Hepburn wants you, where is the chance for trouble? You _do_ want him, don't you, Mr. Hepburn?" The older man looked up with a forced grin. "Bless you, Miss Hunter, yes! Why, Tom, the only reason I thought we might as well part was because I figured you'd be discontented here." "Now! You see, your employer wants you and your foreman wants you. What more can you ask?" the girl exclaimed, facing Beck. "Nothin' much, of course, unless what I think about it might matter." Her enthusiasm ebbed and she looked at him, clearly troubled. "I am not urging you to stay because I need one more man. It is essential to have men I can trust. I can trust you. I need you. I ... I'm quite alone, you know, and I have decided to stay ... if I _can_ stay." She flushed ever so slightly at the indefinable change in his eyes. "You told me last night some of the things I must do, which I can't do wholly alone. I should like very much to have you stay,"--ending with a girlish simplicity quite unlike her usual manner. "Maybe my advice and help ain't what you'd call good," he said. "I thought it over when you had gone," she said, "and I came to the conclusion that it was good advice." Her eyes remained on his, splendidly frank. "Some of us are apt to be disconcerted when we listen to new things; and, again, when we know that they come sincerely and our pride quits hurting we're inclined, perhaps, to take a new point of view. I have, on some things." His face sobered in the rare way it had and he said: "I'm mighty glad." Hepburn had watched them closely, not understanding, and in his usually amiable face was a cunning speculation. "I wouldn't ask you to take a chance against your better judgment. If you must move on, I'm sorry. But ... I need you." With those three words she had ended: I need you. But in them was a plea, frank, unabashed, and her eyes were filled with it and as he stood looking down at his hat, evidently undecided, she lifted one hand in appeal and spoke again in a tone that was low and sweet: "Won't you, please?" He nodded and said: "I'll stay." "I'm so glad!" she cried. "And you're glad, aren't you, Mr. Hepburn?" The foreman had watched closely, trying to determine just what this all meant, but not knowing what had gone before, he was mystified. At her question he forced a show of heavy enthusiasm and said: