"This'll have to be explained to mother," he remarked discontentedly as he shoved the unoffending trunk into the back of the wagon. Elizabeth made no reply. She had been thinking of that very thing. VIII CYCLONES Susan Hornby asked no questions when Elizabeth and John presented themselves at her door. Their embarrassed faces warned her. She gathered Elizabeth into her arms for a brief hug, and then pushed her toward the inside of the house, remaining behind to show John where to put the trunk. When it had been set beside the kitchen door she dismissed him by saying: "I won't ask you to stay for a bite of dinner, since your mother is alone, Mr. Hunter." "Well--er--that is--mother expected Elizabeth over there," John stammered, looking toward the front room. "Tell your mother Elizabeth will stay right here till she has rested up from that headache," the woman replied with the tone of having settled the matter. Elizabeth, in the other room, noted that he did not argue about it and heard him drive away with mixed feelings. When at last Aunt Susan's questions were answered the girl in turn became questioner. "Will she think--John's mother--that we're coarse and common?" she asked when she had told as much as she could bring herself to tell of the morning's altercation. The look on the older woman's face was not a hopeful one, and the girl got up restlessly from the trunk-top where she had dropped beside her. She remembered the fear, half expressed, on the schoolhouse steps two days before and drew within herself, sick with life. "Can I put my trunk away?" she asked, to break the awkward silence she felt coming. "Yes," was the relieved answer, and each took a handle, carrying the light piece of baggage to the bedroom. At the door Elizabeth stopped short. A strange coat and vest were spread carelessly over the bed, and a razor strop lay across the back of the little rocking chair. "Oh, I forgot!" Susan Hornby exclaimed, sweeping the offending male attire into her apron. "A young fellow stopped last night and asked to stay till he could get a house built on that land west of Hunter's. You're going to have a bachelor for a neighbour." "Who?" Elizabeth asked, and then added, "What will he do for a room if I take this one?" "I don't know," Aunt Susan replied to the last clause of the question. "The room is yours, anyhow. I'm so glad to have you back that I'd turn him out if need be. Honestly, we could hardly eat Saturday. Nate was as bad as I was. They've gone to Colebyville together to-day. I'm glad Nate's got him--he's lonesome enough these days."