Minga, uninterested, was turning away, but the gardener nodded at the book. "I've been reading some things in there I like. I wonder if you would let me have it a little longer?" There was dignity in the man's voice, yet a curious pleading note as if he asked to be allowed to hold on to something very necessary to him. "I--I once owned this book," he explained, then stood seemingly plunged in thought, hardly noticing the two girls who stared at him. "Surely." Sard made her free gesture as she handed him back the little volume. "Keep it as long as you like," said the girl in friendly fashion, "and, Colter----" The man paused, respectfully attentive. "Don't you want some other things to read?" Sard's eyes, friendly with interest, were upon him. She was unconscious, sympathetic. "I know Father would let you have anything in his library." "I'll bet anything Judgie would not," was Minga's inner comment. A curious look came over the man's face. As he stood there, the sunlight on the russet hair, there came into his eyes a quality of pleasure and bright response, of good will and courteous deference that was the unmistakable look of personality. But it was momentary. The two girls, young, not very well versed in subtle shades of breeding, stood staring curiously at him. Then suddenly they saw the look transform; a dull expression, a sort of hunted suspicion settled on the sensitive features; and it was only a garden hand in baggy trousers and sun-faded gray shirt that stood before them; something had faded out of the man. Faltering at the mystery of it, Sard tried to repeat her offer. "I meant," she said awkwardly, "you seemed to care so for books." "Thank you," said Colter quietly. "I will leave your book in the kitchen." It was done with so final an air that there was nothing for the girl to do but follow Minga out of the orchard, but before she left the garden she raised her eyes with a swift inquiring look into the strong blue ones fixed upon her. What she saw there puzzled and dismayed her. A sudden thought set her heart to beating quickly. "Minga," called Sard suddenly, "Minga, wait for me!" Startled like a bird, the girl sped out of the little garden patch. The two hurried toward the house. Minga put her hand on Sard's shoulder; a look of frank curiosity and inquiry was on her face. "Where did he get that name Colter?" she demanded. "It was printed in the old wreck of a cap he wore, but he says it is not his name. But he can't remember his name. Well," asked Sard breathlessly, "well, what do you think?" Minga faced the older girl solemnly. "Look here," she demanded, "what is that creature--who is it--where did you pick it up?" "Then you felt it, too," Sard demanded triumphantly. "You know he isn't a common person?"