Bay Nellie, as the one dependable carriage-horse in the outfit of broncos, had been set aside for the use of Anita and her friends, but Kelley had orders from Harford to let the mare out whenever the women did not need her, provided a kindly driver was assured, and so it happened that the wives of the officers occasionally used her, although none of them could be called friends or even acquaintances of little Mrs. Harford. Kelley observed their distant, if not contemptuous, nods to his employer's wife as they chanced to meet her on the street, but he said no word, even when some of the town loafers frankly commented on it. He owed nothing to Harford. "It's not my job to defend his wife's reputation." Nevertheless, it made him hot when he heard one of these loafers remark: "I met the old major the other evening driving along the river road with Harf's wife. Somebody better warn the major, or there'll be merry hell and a military funeral one of these days." "I reckon you're mistaken," said Kelley. "Not by a whole mile! It was dark, but not so dark but that I could see who they were. They were in a top buggy, drivin' that slick nag the old man is so choice about." "When was it?" asked Kelley. "Night before last. I met 'em up there just at the bend of the river." Kelley said no more, for he remembered that Anita had called for the horse on that date just about sundown, and had driven away alone. She returned alone about ten--at least, she drove up to the stable door alone, but he recalled hearing the low tones of a man's voice just before she called. It made him sad and angry. He muttered an imprecation against the whole world of men, himself included. "If I hadn't seen her--if I didn't know how sweet and kind and pretty she was--I wouldn't mind," he said to himself. "But to think of a little babe like her--" He checked himself. "That old cockalorum needs killing. I wonder if I've got to do it?" he asked in conclusion. II Harford came home the next day, and for several weeks there was no further occasion for gossip, although Kelley had his eyes on the major so closely that he could neither come nor go without having his action analyzed. He kept close record of Anita's coming and going also, although it made him feel like a scoundrel whenever she glanced at him. He was sure she was only the thoughtless child in all her indiscretions, with a child's romantic admiration of a handsome uniform. "I'll speak to her," he resolved. "I'll hand her out a word of warning just to clear my conscience. She needs a big brother or an uncle--some one to give her a jolt, and I'll do it!" The opportunity came one day soon after Harford's return, but his courage almost failed at the moment of meeting, so dainty, so small, so charming, and so bird-like did the young wife seem. She complimented him again on the condition of the mare and asked, timidly, "How much does my husband pay you?" "More than I'm worth," he replied, with gloomy self-depreciation.