"whatever she might do during the day."

"Now, Doro, dear," consoled Cologne, "you must not look at it that
way. It is perfectly surprising what may happen, in a perfectly safe
way, after one has found out, while before that time such things seem
utterly impossible. Haven't we had lots of that at Glenwood?"

"Yes, things do happen that seem anything but likely," Dorothy
admitted. "And I do hope that such will be the case this time. I wish
we knew!"

"We had a great time in Dalton," said Nat, "the day we went over to
see the old place--your old place, Dorothy. The major asked us to go
in to look after a leak in the roof, and just as we went into the old
plumbing shop we heard a racket. It seems that a fellow named
Mortimer Morrison, a stage-struck chap, played a part on the local
stage, and while delivering his lines he gave his audience a
treat--the real thing in tragics. He went crazy--wild, stark, staring
mad! He was an escaped sanitariumite--he got out, found the stage at
Dalton, and was having a gay old time when the----" Nat suddenly
stopped. "What's the matter, coz?" he asked.

Dorothy was sitting on the rustic bench, at the side of the old corn
crib, and she went pale as her cousin told the story. Cologne was
beside her, and, as Nat asked what the matter was, Cologne grasped
Dorothy's trembling hand.

"What, Dorothy?"

"Why the--man! That man! He is the one who saved the team--the one who