sort, though she did not rightly realize her enemy. Then, justly or
unjustly, her fears crystallized and she had something tangible to
fight, for the pock-marked man was standing beside Louis, patting him on
the back and smiling at him.

The words of Louis' letter flashed into the depths of her mind: _"That
pock-marked man's a devil--he's trying to get me."_

She made her frightened feet go nearer. Ole Fred saw her and grinned.

"Come for that drink, miss?" he asked. She scowled at him; if she had
been nine instead of nineteen it would have been called deliberately
"making a face." Then she looked past him to Louis.

"I've been waiting for you half an hour, Louis."

"I'm not coming," he said, looking away from her awkwardly. "Y-you've
b-better c-company than m-mine."

She flushed and felt herself trembling with temper. A flash from her
father's eyes lit up her face as she said quickly:

"No, I haven't. I want to talk to you."

"I c-can't l-leave these chaps now. I'll s-see you to-morrow," he said
sullenly.

"Oh no, you'll not. What's to do, Louis? You said you wanted to see me,
and there I was waiting for you, and feeling so lonely."