to meet his cousin. All this with a lack of interest and abstraction
that he was miserably conscious told against him, but he was yet
helpless to resist.

The first man remained thoughtful, and then glanced at Clarence's
sunburnt hands. Presently his large, good-humored smile returned.

"Well, I suppose you are hungry?"

"Yes," said Clarence shyly. "But--"

"But what?"

"I should like to wash myself a little," he returned hesitatingly,
thinking of the clean tent, the clean lady, and Susy's ribbons.

"Certainly," said his friend, with a pleased look. "Come with me."
Instead of leading Clarence to the battered tin basin and bar of yellow
soap which had formed the toilet service of the Silsbee party, he
brought the boy into one of the wagons, where there was a washstand, a
china basin, and a cake of scented soap. Standing beside Clarence, he
watched him perform his ablutions with an approving air which rather
embarrassed his protege. Presently he said, almost abruptly,--

"Do you remember your father's house at Louisville?"

"Yes, sir; but it was a long time ago."

Clarence remembered it as being very different from his home at St.
Joseph's, but from some innate feeling of diffidence he would have