"We run away 'cause Pappy Lon were a makin' me steal when I didn't want to," he explained, clearing his throat, "and he was goin' to make Flea be Lem's woman. And that's the truth, Mister, and Lem wasn't goin' to marry her, nuther!" He rambled on in a monotone as if too sick for inflection. Flea placed one arm about his neck. "I'm a girl! I'm Flea Cronk!" she confessed brokenly. "And Flukey's doin' all this for me! And he's so sick! I stealed from yer table--he didn't! Will ye let him lay in yer barn tonight, if I go up for the stealin'?" Never had Horace Shellington felt so keenly the sorrows of other human beings as when this girl, in her crude boy clothes, lifted her agonized, tearless eyes to his. His throat filled. Somehow, his whole soul went out to her, his being stirred to its depths. He put out one hand to touch Flea--when voices from the inner room stopped further speech. A light step, accompanied by a heavier one, approaching the dining-hall, brought his thoughts together. "Ann," he appealed, stepping to his sister's side, "you're always wanting to do something for me--do it now. Let me settle this!" Speaking to Flukey, he said, "Pick up your dog, Boy!" "And the pig from the table!" groaned Ann distractedly. * * * * * Flukey mechanically stooped to obey, while Flea captured Squeaky and tucked the suckling under her arm just as Shellington opened the door to admit his guests. When Flea lifted her embarrassed gaze to the strangers, she saw the same face that had peered at her over Horace's shoulder at the Dryden fair, the face to which Screech Owl had made her silent appeal. A graceful girl followed, whose eyes expressed astonishment as Horace spoke. "These are my young friends, you will remember, Everett, from the fair, Flea and Flukey Cronk." Turning his misty eyes upon the children he continued, "This is Mr. Brimbecomb, and Miss Katherine Vandecar, Governor Vandecar's niece." He went through this introduction to gain control of his feelings. "They have changed their minds, Everett, and have brought me the pig," he exclaimed. "It was kind of you, child!" He had almost said "boy"; but, remembering the admission Flea had made, he gazed straight at her, watching with growing interest the changes that passed over the young face. "You see," he hurried on nervously, "they found out where I lived, and thought I might still want the pig--" Ann Shellington admonishingly touched her brother's arm. "Horace!" she urged; but he stopped her with a gesture. "I think it mighty nice of them to come all the way from Dryden with a pig--on my soul, I do, Ann!" Taking a silver case from his pocket, he extracted a cigarette from it, while directing his attention to Flea. "I want it now as much as I did then; but I don't believe that I shall ever roast and eat him."