But at noon the climbing party did not appear in the dining-room. At two o'clock, when the carriage appeared, there was no sign of them. At three the horse was still waiting and Halloran had gone back to his cigars. At half-past three he called the boy and ordered him shortly to take the horse back to the barn. At four the party, disheveled, flushed with exercise, laughing merrily together over the little jokes and incidents of the climb, came wearily up the walk. Halloran stood on the veranda and watched them as they climbed the steps. Margaret met him half-defiantly, half-apologetically. “I'm sorry,” she murmured, as she passed him, the last of the party; “Mr. Green did take some sandwiches in his pockets. We--we went on about half way up the Wittenberg. I must change my things now; but if you still want to go I can be ready in a few minutes.” “No--I've sent the horse back. You couldn't go now--you need a rest.” “Well”--with a little toss of her head, “that's just as you like. We can go to-morrow, perhaps.” “I think I shall have to go away this afternoon.” Here he was, forcing her to speak out and urge him; and she had no notion of being forced to speak. “Oh, must you go so soon?” “I think so.” “That's too bad. You've not much more than got here. You really should have gone with us; we had a glorious climb. I'm all torn to pieces.” She put out a shoe that was cut and tom in two or three places. “I never worked so in my life before.” Halloran was thawing rapidly; he could not stand there looking at her and still keep all his resentment. And when she said, with an embarrassed little laugh, “Well, I simply must go in,” he delayed her: “Margaret, wait just a minute. Haven't you anything to say to me. It all rests with you. If you would tell me--to stay----” He could not get further. She looked at him, then away. “Why--why--if you------ Of course you know best how much time you have.” He turned away impatiently, and she hurried into the house, pausing only to add, “I shall be down in a few minutes.” But when the few minutes, lengthened to half an hour, had passed, and she had come down and looked with a curious expression into the parlours and out about the veranda, Halloran was half a mile away, driving rapidly toward the railway station in the junction village. And not until the evening did she know certainly that he had gone. One Père Marquette train reached Wauchung early in the morning, to connect with the car-ferry across the lake; and this was the train that brought Halloran back home. Walking up the street, bag in hand, he met the Captain, who was getting home from the yards for breakfast. Craig stopped when he saw him, and waited. They shook hands with only a greeting, but the Captain's shrewd old eyes were searching Halloran's face. “Well, Mr. Halloran, we weren't looking for you quite so soon.”