"Come along," said Druce, "the more the merrier."

"Say, Mr. Druce," asked Harvey, now completely taken in by the ingratiating stranger, "what's your business?"

"Mine, why--" The man moved toward Elsie as he spoke, gazing at her steadily.

"Yes, you've got one, haven't you?" persisted Harvey.

Druce seemed confused for a moment. Then his face broke into a genial smile. Both Elsie and Spencer were watching him curiously.

"Sure, I've got a business. It's a mighty profitable one, too. I'm a dealer in live stock."

"Oh, cattle?" said Harvey.

"You got me," was the casual response, "just cattle."

CHAPTER V

A SERPENT WHISPERS AND A WOMAN LISTENS

The word cattle seemed to arouse the roan colt to his own existence. He whinnied ingratiatingly and tugged at his. .h.i.tching strap. Whether or not his master had forgotten, he knew it was supper time. Harvey heard him.

"Well," he said to Druce, backing away towards the gate. "I've got to be going. Drop into the store some time. I'll give you a cigar."

"Thanks," laughed Druce. Then under his breath he added, "Like blazes I will." He turned back to Elsie. "Is that the Rube," he demanded, "who wants to marry you?"

"Yes," defended Elsie hotly, "and he's all right, too. I don't think it was nice of you to make fun of him as you did."

"Now, now," said Druce soothingly. "Don't be angry with me. I was just playing around." He paused and looked warily at the house. "Everything all right, eh?"

"Yes, I guess so," replied Elsie, with an anxious look in the same direction. "Harvey frightened me when I first got home. For a moment I thought he knew that I had been out with you."

"Well, what if he did? There's no harm in going for a ride with me, is there?"

"No-o," Elsie shook her head doubtfully. "But I don't feel just right about it."

"And that grocery fellow didn't know after all, eh?"

"I think not. At least he said nothing."

Druce shrugged his shoulders derisively.

"I think not. At least he said nothing." he couldn't detect a hair in the b.u.t.ter. I'm not worried about him. How is it with your own folks? Your mother doesn't know?"

[Transcriber's note: previous paragraph transcribed as printed, with apparent obfuscation by duplicated line.]

"No," replied Elsie, uneasy again. "Anyway, mother wouldn't matter so much, but dad--" She covered her face with her hands.

"Never mind," said Druce tenderly, drawing her toward him and caressing her. "We had some ride, didn't we?"

"Grand," replied Elsie, brightened by the recollection.

"I told you it would be all right if I hired the car and picked you up around the corner from the mill. Say--" The man lowered his tone. "Gee, you're prettier than ever today, Elsie!"

Something in his manner caused the girl to recoil. The shrinking movement did not escape Druce.

"What's the matter, girlie?" he inquired. "Do you know that in all the weeks I have been coming down here from Chicago to see you, you haven't even kissed me?"

"Please," pleaded the girl, pushing him away. She scarcely understood her mood. She only knew she did not want Druce to touch her.

"What's the matter?" repeated Druce, following close behind her.

"I--I don't know," faltered the girl, "I feel wicked somehow."

"Why?" He led her to a bench and sat down beside her. "Haven't I always treated you like a lady?"

"Yes, Martin, you've been good to me--but--I feel wicked."

Druce laughed. "Nonsense, girlie," he said, "you couldn't be wicked if you tried. Do you know what you ought to do?"

"What?" she asked.

"Turn your back on this town where nothing ever happens and come to little old Chicago, the live village by the lake."

"Chicago! What could I do there?"

"Make more money in a month than you can earn here in a year."

"But how?"

"You can sing," said Druce appraisingly. "You're there forty ways when it comes to looks. Why they'd pay you a hundred dollars a week to sing in the cabarets."

"Cabarets?" The girl's interest was aroused. "What's a cabaret?"

"A cabaret," said Druce, "is a restaurant where ladies and gentlemen dine. A fine great hall, polished floors, rugs, palms, a lot of little tables, colored lights, flowers, silver, cut gla.s.s, perfumes, a grand orchestra--get that in your mind--and then the orchestra strikes up and you come down the aisle, right through the crowd and sing to them."

"Oh, I'd love to do that," said the girl.

"Why not try it?"

"I--I wouldn't know how to begin."

"I'll show you how."

"Tell me, tell me how, quick."