unexplained loophole in the law, the story had it, to enable Foraker's Folly to grow rich at the expense of the rest of the county. But wait—wait! was the word passed by the supervisors, who had said little and looked wise, for Harris again had them in hand.
And another sly story crept about: That young John Taylor, son of the great and remembered Luke, was no idle son of a rich man. He had been at work for weeks to get possession of the Folly. He had come for that purpose, he had wormed his way into the girl's confidence and had then come into the open. That was why he was living in Pancake, boarding with the widow Holmquist and awaiting the ripening of plans that would mean much to the town and the county.
When men came to Jim Harris for confirmation of this story he shrugged and said little; but he said enough and his eyes carried a fine twinkle when he said—just enough.
Milt Goddard heard this and carried it to Helen.
"Rowe is making his cracks that Taylor was here all the time like a—a spy," he said.
She turned away so abruptly that the gesture was more stinging than any reply she might have made. Goddard's hour of triumph had been brief, indeed. He had dismayed John Taylor, but it had gained him nothing—for the present. He could wait, though; he could wait. He told himself that as the flush which Helen's wordless rebuke had caused began to fade.
Other happenings: For instance, Rowe and Harris drove out toward Seven Mile Creek, turned off before reaching the mill and followed a pair of dim ruts along the edge of the swamp until they came to a small clearing
