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He smiled. "No, but I can put some there if you want it."

"Borrowed!" echoed the sergeant. "If he doesn't own that mare no man does."

"That was not play, Mr. Smith," Miss Harper had begun to respond, when a voice across the sedge-field called with startling clearness,

He waited on the threshold with his dropsical back to me for my last word, and then, still in the same attitude, droned, "O-oh, he's dead. And anyhow," he finished out of sight in the hall, "that's not our way."

"Good-morning, Smith, who is your prisoner?"

"Ah, but she is a wonder. In a state of society more finished--"

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