THE WOOD WALK
to each cheek, the quick lift of the bosom. It was gone in a flash, leaving her paler, gone with the long sigh which expelled her fears. "Why, his horse isn't worth ten dollars," she said lightly.
Carron couldn't immediately speak. As quickly as her expression had come and gone—so quickly a supposition had touched his mind. He entertained it not a minute. It wasn't possible! This being who fastened on stirrups with a hair-pin! "What's got me?" he thought. "I'm so possessed with an idea that I accuse every one I see of knowing about it."
Blanche Rader's momentary suspicion, whatever it had been, evidently had blown away. Mere curiosity was left. "Did he tell you he had sold a horse?" she asked.
"I gathered it from what he said."
"Then you've met him before?"
"Yesterday. He very kindly directed me here. He said Raders might take me in and keep me overnight, and so, you see, I am grateful to him."
"Yes, he's obliging." She spoke like one anxious to be fair, but there was a trace of irritation in her voice. "I'm glad if he has made some money, for I'm afraid he needs it terribly. This has been a cruel summer."
"He lives in this part of the country, I suppose?"
"A mile down the main road. The Ferriers have
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