miserable one, and she knew that too!

The reins were tightened. The pace lessened and at last fell to a walk.
Conscious of her telltale eyes and troubled face, she dared not turn to
her companion to ask him why, but glanced across the fields.

"When you first came I didn't get to know your name, Miss Mallory, but I
reckon I know your father."

Her father! What made him say that? She wanted to speak, but she
felt she could not. In another moment, if he went on, she must do
SOMETHING--she would cry!

"I reckon you'll be wanting to go to the hotel first, anyway?"

There!--she knew it! He WOULD keep on! And now she had burst into tears.

The mare was still walking slowly; the man was lazily bending forward
over the shafts as if nothing had occurred. Then suddenly, illogically,
and without a moment's warning, the pride that had sustained her
crumbled and became as the dust of the road.

She burst out and told him--this stranger!--this man she had
disliked!--all and EVERYTHING. How she had felt, how she had been
deceived, and what she had overheard!

"I thought as much," said her companion, quietly, "and that's why I sent
for your father."

"You sent for my father!--when?--where?" echoed Rose, in astonishment.