"I guess you have found out what kind of a temper I have, haven't you?" she added genially. As he said nothing (being unable to trust his voice): "I know I shall lead poor Barry a dog's life. If he knew what was good for him he would avoid me as he would the plague." He swallowed hard. "You--you will not fail to come with me to-morrow morning on the purchasing tour," he said, rather gruffly. "I'll be helpless without you." "I wouldn't miss it for anything," she cried. As they walked down to the gate she turned to him and abruptly said: "Barry is going down the river next week. He expects to be away for nearly a fortnight. Has he said anything to you about it?" Kenneth started. Next week? The dark of the moon. "Not a word," he replied grimly. CHAPTER XIV A MAN FROM DOWN THE RIVER Kenneth's first night in the old Gwyn house was an uneasy, restless one, filled with tormenting doubts as to his strength or even his willingness to continue the battle against the forces of nature. Viola's night was also disturbed. Some strange, mysterious instinct was at work within her, although she was far from being aware of its significance. She lay awake for a long time thinking of him. She was puzzled. Over and over again she asked herself why she had blushed when he looked down at her as she was tying her bonnet-strings, and why had she felt that queer little thrill of alarm? And why did he look at her like that? She answered this question by attributing its curious intensity to a brotherly interest--which was quite natural--and the awakening of a dutiful affection--but that did not in any sense account for the blood rushing to her face, so that she must have reminded him of a "turkey gobbler." She announced to her mother at breakfast: "I don't believe I can ever think of Kenny as a brother." Rachel Gwyn looked up, startled. "What was that you called him?" she asked. "Kenny. He has always been called that for short. And somehow, mother, it sounds familiar to me. Have I ever heard father speak of him by that name?" "I--I am sure I do not know," replied her mother uneasily. "I doubt it. It must be a fancy, Viola." "I can't get over feeling shy and embarrassed when he looks at me," mused the girl. "Don't you think it odd? It doesn't seem natural for a girl to feel that way about a brother." "It is because you are not used to each other," interrupted Rachel. "You will get over it in time." "I suppose so. You are sure you don't mind my going to the stores with him, mother?" Her mother arose from the table. There was a suggestion of fatalism in her reply. "I think I can understand your desire to be with him." She went to the kitchen window and looked over at the house next door. "He is out in his back yard now, Viola," she said, after a long pause, "all dressed and waiting for you. You had better get ready."