"Not very," answered Madelene flippantly. "I was wondering how long it would take that Skinner girl to earn enough money to pay for a trip like this." Had a bomb gone off in his face, Frederick couldn't have been more appalled. His brows drew together in a dark frown; his face grew livid and tensely lined. Madelene noted the effect of her words. Her suspicion was confirmed,--the problem solved! It was the squatter girl who stood between her and her husband! "I forbid you," said Frederick in a low, angry voice, "ever to mention that name again." Then he whirled about and walked away through the trees. In alarm, Madelene sped after him. "Frederick!" she implored. "I'm awfully sorry I said that.... I didn't mean to hurt you." He shook her from his arm. "Very well," he replied savagely, "but just please don't speak of her again." Tears blinded the girl's vision.... An enraged feeling rose in her heart. Never in all her spoiled life had any one spoken to her in such a way. If Ebenezer had been there, Frederick would never have dared! By this time, having stood mute for several seconds, she was thoroughly indignant. This was her first real conflict with Frederick, and she began to feel ill as well as incensed. "It's dreadfully disagreeable of you to get angry over a little thing like that," she said impetuously. "One would think you loved that girl and not me. I was told lots of times you were crazy about her, but of course,--" She hesitated now. She wanted to say cruel things about the squatter girl back in Ithaca, but she dared not. She was overwrought with anger, but her husband's threatening face forced her to silence. "Are you determined to keep harping on a subject I wish to forget?" His words carried an ominous meaning, which quickened her already awakened jealousy. Determined to probe the matter to the bottom she demanded. "Why should you wish to forget her? Does she disturb your memory as much as that?" "Perhaps," replied Frederick gloomily. He saw the danger involved in the discussion and curbed his tongue. Then he left her and walked quickly into the house. Madelene followed, angry and rebellious, and found him seated at the table, white-faced, with the morning mail unnoticed before him. Still enraged, she glanced over the letters indifferently. "They're all for me with the exception of one," she said sulkily, "and it's an Ithaca letter.... May I open it?" Frederick took it from her and looked at the envelope. His name was staring back at him as if every cramped letter were an accusing eye, and the writing was in the hand of Tessibel Skinner! He studied it a minute.... "You have mail of your own to read, my dear," he said quite kindly. "Let's have breakfast."