He was a kindly, easy-going man; but, after the way of a large
percentage of the Western stock, he was undemonstrative. He
nodded, turned toward the door to obey, and paused irresolutely.
The look he gave back to Saxon was almost dog-like in gratitude
and all-brotherly in love. She felt it, and in spirit leapt
toward it.

"It's all right--everything's all right," she cried hastily.

Tom shook his head.

"No, it ain't. It's a shame, a blamed shame, that's what it is."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, I don't care for myself. But it's
for you. You got your life before you yet, little kid sister.
You'll get old, and all that means, fast enough. But it's a bad
start for a day off. The thing for you to do is to forget all
this, and skin out with your fellow, an' have a good time." In
the open door, his hand on the knob to close it after him, he
halted a second time. A spasm contracted his brow. "Hell! Think
of it! Sarah and I used to go buggy-riding once on a time. And I
guess she had her three pairs of shoes, too. Can you beat it?"

In her bedroom Saxon completed her dressing, for an instant
stepping upon a chair so as to glimpse critically in the small
wall-mirror the hang of her ready-made linen skirt. This, and the
jacket, she had altered to fit, and she had double-stitched the
seams to achieve the coveted tailored effect. Still on the chair,
all in the moment of quick clear-seeing, she drew the skirt
tightly back and raised it. The sight was good to her, nor did
she under-appraise the lines of the slender ankle above the low