"Squire," she said, taking the initiative, "this gentleman is inquiring

for you."

On hearing the Squire's footsteps, Sanderson turned to him with all the

cordiality at his command, and, slapping him on the back, said: "Hello,

Squire, I've just ridden over to talk to you about your prize Jersey

heifer." The Squire had only met Sanderson once or twice before, and

that was prior to Kate's visit to Boston; but he knew all about the

young man who had become his neighbor.

Lennox Sanderson was a lucky fellow, and while waiting impatiently for

his father to start him in life, his uncle, the judge, died and

mentioned no one but Lennox Sanderson in his will.

The Squire had known the late Judge Sanderson, the "big man" of the

county, very well, and lost no time in cultivating the acquaintance of

the judge's nephew, who had fallen heir to the fine property the judge

had accumulated, no small part of which was the handsome "country seat"

of the judge in the neighborhood.

That is how this fine young city man happened to drop in on the Squire

so unceremoniously. He had learned of Kate's return from Boston and

was hastening to pay his respects to the pretty girl. To say he was

astounded to find Anna on the spot is putting it mildly. He believed

she had learned of his good fortune and had followed him, to make

disagreeable exactions. It put him in a rage and it cost him a strong

effort to conceal it before the Squire.

"Walk right in," said the Squire, beaming with hospitality. Sanderson

entered and the girl found herself alone in the twilight. Anna sat on

the bench by the well-curb and faced despair. She was physically so

weak from her long and recent illness that the unexpected interview

with Sanderson left her faint and exhausted. The momentary flare up of

her righteous indignation at Sanderson's outrageous proposition that

she should go away had sapped her strength and she made ready to meet

one of the great crises of life with nerveless, trembling body and a

mind incapable of action.

She pressed her throbbing head on the cool stones of the well-curb and

prayed for light. What could she do--where could she go? Her fate

rose up before her like a great stone prison wall at which she beat

with naked bleeding hand and the stones still stood in all their

mightiness.

How could she cope with such heartless cruelty as that of Sanderson?

All that she had asked for was an honest roof in return for honest

toil. And there are so few such, thought the helpless girl,

remembering with awful vividness her efforts to find work and the

pitfalls and barriers that had been put in her way, often in the guise

of friendly interest.




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