thoughtful on our journey back to the city. For the close of such an eventful day we had little to say to each other. With every mile that we travelled an unpleasant suspicion grew stronger as I thought over the bargain with that guileful man; gradually the suspicion changed to a certainty, and then it was that I became aware that[Pg 43] Marion, who had also been strangely silent, was studying me with a tantalizing air of knowing my thoughts. [Pg 43] "What is it?" I asked, with sudden annoyance. "I was just thinking," she began, then she stopped to laugh gleefully—"do you remember what the postmistress said about him skin"—— "Don't repeat it," I snapped, squirming. "Of course I remember, but I don't see the application." "Well, you shouldn't expect to if there isn't any," she said, with renewed mirth. "It was odd, too, that he warned you he'd pay you back for hoisting him." "Will you be kind enough to explain the connection?" I demanded fiercely. It really is unsafe to use that tone with Marion. There was a little flash in her eyes; my glare faltered, then her brief resentment melted into sympathy. "Connection?" she answered. "Why, what connection could there be?" My hand sought hers, in gratitude. There was a pause, then we both laughed, and[Pg 44] somehow the bitterness of knowing I had been gulled passed away; I even felt a sympathetic appreciation of his artistic touch in assuring me that we were both men of honor. [Pg 44] Suddenly Marion grasped my arm. "Henry," she exclaimed, "he's the man you want!" "The man I want?" "Why, yes; didn't you say you wanted a central figure for that set of rural sketches you've planned?" "By Jove," I cried, with kindling enthusiasm, "he's a character all ready made! If I do him justice, he'll be a—a regular gold mine." I was rather puzzled by a meaning, but to me, inscrutable smile that lingered on Marion's face after this comment, but she so often sees more in a remark of mine than I do that I prefer not to spoil the effect by asking for an explanation.
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