"We went to Clark's for you, and got it there." She added that she had feared Braden, and spoke of his slack courtesy. "Oh, well," he said, partly in apology for the real-estate agent, "if a man out here don't take off his hat to a girl, that means nothing." "It wasn't the hat," she answered, and described Braden's further conduct. Lounsbury blazed up again. "I'll see about that, too," he declared. "He must be another sample of imported manners." They heard the cheery grinding of a coffee-mill. As if struck by a thought, she looked toward the shack. "It's about time for me to go in," she said, a little flurried. Then, "Won't--won't you come, too, and take a snack with us? Marylyn'd like to see you." "Marylyn!" He had read her meaning. "Why, Dallas, you don't meant to say that you--that she still----" "Yes," very low. "Well,"--Lounsbury was determined now,--"there's got to be some kind of an understanding. I told you how I felt, and you ran away from me. You shan't do it this time. I'll go to the house, and I'll tell Marylyn just how things are. I _will_." "Oh, my baby sister!" she murmured. Instantly, he was all gentleness. "No--no, I won't tell her," he said. "But I'm sick and tired of being tied this way, hand and foot. It was your father first. And now _this_ again--Dallas!" She could not answer him. "I won't tell her. I'll wait till--till you do. But, you see that I can't go to the house. And I suppose I oughtn't to stay here any longer, for her to see. But I'm coming back here to-night--at taps." She shook her head. "Marylyn would be alone," she said hastily. "So--so I can't." "You will, I know you will. She'll be asleep." "No--no----" "At taps, Dallas." He touched the hand that held the scythe upright. She thought all at once how worn he was, and white. Another moment, he had mounted and was cantering off. Left alone, she dreaded going into breakfast, expecting a hurt silence, or passionate protests, perhaps tears. And she tried to find it in her heart to blame Lounsbury for not accompanying her. But Marylyn welcomed her with a question or two, exclaimed sorrowfully at the news of Lounsbury's mother, and, when the elder girl explained that the storekeeper had been too busy to come to the shack, returned a faint smile. "The brave baby!" thought Dallas. But Marylyn was puzzling over Lounsbury's true reason for staying away--now when their father was not there to object. He had told Dallas he was busy. That, however, was only a pretext. Finally she concluded that Fraser, in spite of his promise, had made a confidant of the storekeeper, and that the latter had seen the hopelessness of his affection for her. "I'm glad," she said to herself. "Now, I won't have to tell him."