of recognition. Yet she felt that he had neither noticed any change in
her appearance, nor experienced any wonder at seeing her there at that
hour.

"I did not take a buggy from the house," she went on quickly, "for I
left early, and did not want to disturb them. In fact, they don't know
that I am gone. I was worried at not hearing news from my father in San
Francisco since the earthquake, and I thought I would run down to San
Jose to inquire without putting them to any trouble. Anything will do
that you have ready, if I can take it at once."

Still without exhibiting the least surprise, Bent nodded affirmatively,
put down his tools, begged her to wait a moment, and ran off in the
direction of the cabin. As he disappeared behind the wheat, she lapsed
quite suddenly against the work bench, but recovered herself a moment
later, leaning with her back against it, her hands grasping it on either
side, and her knit brows and determined little face turned towards the
road. Then she stood erect again, shook the dust out of her skirts,
lifted her veil, wiped her cheeks and brow with the corner of a small
handkerchief, and began walking up and down the length of the shed as
Bent reappeared.

He was accompanied by the man who had first led her through the wheat.
He gazed upon her with apparently all the curiosity and concern that the
other had lacked.

"You want to get to San Jose as quick as you can?" he said
interrogatively.

"Yes," she said quickly, "if you can help me."