"And you thought them new store gownds of hers right peart?"

"Yes," said the master. "Perhaps a little too fine for the school, you
know," he added insinuatingly, "and"--

"Not for her--not for her," interrupted McKinstry. "I reckon thar's more
whar that cam from! Ye needn't fear but that she kin keep up that gait
ez long ez Hiram McKinstry hez the runnin' of her."

Mr. Ford gazed hopelessly at the hideous ranch in the distance, at the
sky, and the trail before him; then his glance fell upon the hand still
upon his shoulder, and he struggled with a final effort. "At another
time I'd like to have a long talk with you about your daughter, Mr.
McKinstry."

"Talk on," said McKinstry, putting his wounded hand through the master's
arm. "I admire to hear you. You're that kam, it does me good."

Nevertheless the master was conscious that his own arm was scarcely as
firm as his companion's. It was however useless to draw back now,
and with as much tact as he could command he relieved his mind of its
purpose. Addressing the obtruding bandage before him, he dwelt upon
Cressy's previous attitude in the school, the danger of any relapse, the
necessity of her having a more clearly defined position as a scholar,
and even the advisability of her being transferred to a more advanced
school with a more mature teacher of her own sex. "This is what I wished
to say to Mrs. McKinstry to-day," he concluded, "but she referred me to
you."

"In course, in course," said McKinstry, nodding complacently. "She's a