pester me. I don't know nothin' 'bout hit, an' I wouldn't tell youuns
nothin' if I did."

And with this, the mountain girl escaped into the house.

While her friends on the veranda were looking at each other in
questioning silence, Mrs. Kent, without a word, turned and walked away
into the woods.

As she disappeared among the trees, one of the men said, in a low tone:
"You better go after her, Harry. She is on, all right, that it's Brian
Kent. She never did believe that story about his death, you know. There
is no knowing what she'll do when she gets to thinking it all over."

"It is a darned shame," exclaimed one of the women, "to have our party
spoiled like this!"

"Spoiled nothing," answered another. "Martha is too good a sport to
spoil anything. Go on, Harry. Cheer her up. Bring her back here. We'll
all help get her good and drunk to-night, and she'll be all right."

There was a laugh at this, and some one said: "A little something
wouldn't hurt any of us just now, I'm thinking. Here, Jim!"

Harry Green found Mrs. Kent sitting on the riverbank some distance above
the boat landing.

She looked up at the sound of his approach, but did not speak. Dropping
down beside her, the man said: "I'm damned sorry about this, Martha.
I never dreamed I was starting anything, or I would have kept my mouth