William and Sam did not say much on their way back to St. Goram. They talked more freely when they got into the house. "It's awfully good of you to introduce me," Sam said, when Mrs. Menire had retired to her room. "I'm more in love with her than ever." William's heart gave a painful thump, but he answered mildly enough-- "You seemed to get on very well together." "She was delightfully friendly, but I owe that all to you. She said that any friend of yours was welcome at their house." "It was very kind of her," William answered slowly. "Did she give you permission to call again?" "I'm not exactly sure. She did say that any time you brought me along I should be welcome, or words to that effect. So we must arrange another little excursion soon." "Must we?" "We must; and what is more, you might, you know, in the meanwhile--that is, if you can honestly do so--that is--you know what I mean, don't you?" "I don't think I do," William answered, in a tone of mild surprise. "It's asking a lot, I know," Sam replied, fidgeting uneasily in his chair. "But if you could--that--that is--without compromising yourself in any way, speak a good word for me, it would go miles and miles." "Do you think so?" "I'm sure of it. She thinks the world of you, and a word from you would be worth a week's pleading on my part." "I'm not so sure of that," William answered. "I think all love affairs are best managed by those concerned. The meddling of outsiders generally does more harm than good." "But there are exceptions to every rule," Sam persisted. "You see, I am awfully handicapped by being so much of a stranger. If I can once get a footing as a friend, the rest will be easy." William smiled wistfully. "I wouldn't be precipitate, if I were you," he said. "And in the meanwhile I'll do my best." Sam slept soundly till morning, but William lay awake most of the night. When he did sleep it was to dream that he was young and prosperous, and that Ruth Penlogan had promised to be his wife. After an early breakfast, he saw his cousin mount his horse and ride away toward Pentudy, and very soon after William climbed into his trap and went out to get orders. One of his first places of call was Hillside Farm, and as he drove slowly up to the house he looked at it with a new interest. All sorts of vague fancies seemed to float about in his mind. He saw Ruth back there again, looking happier than any queen; he saw himself with some kind of proprietary interest in the place; he saw Ralph looking in when the fancy pleased him; he saw a number of new combinations and relationships, but so vaguely that he could not fit them into their places. He found Farmer Jenkins in a very doleful mood. "I wish I had never seen the place," he declared. "I've lost money ever since I came, and I'm going to clear out at the earliest opportunity." "Do you really mean it?" William questioned.