Claire had stood quite silent, with her blue eyes opening wider and wider, for the moment helpless, but trusting more to Hillyer's resources of diplomacy than to her husband's self-control. Now her face crimsoned with mortification, and she stood up with all the inches of her five foot two.

"You'll do no such thing!" she cried, and one little heel came down on the floor with a jolt. "The idea! The very idea! Oh!"

For a moment she stood poised, like a b.u.t.terfly in a rage, if one can imagine it; then she tripped straight to Huntington, clasped the lapels of his coat, and drew herself up on tiptoes, trying to meet his eyes.

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" she cried.

"No, I'm not!" he growled.

But he was, or at least was dimly conscious of his egregious misbehavior; for he looked neither at Hillyer nor his wife, and was red now where he had been purple.

"But you are, though!" She turned her face toward Hillyer, without loosing her hold on Seth's coat. "Don't you mind him, Mr. Hillyer!

He's just a big bear. And Haig has been a trial to us. Marion's my guest, and--" She looked up into Seth's beard again--"If you think you're going to send her away like this--"

She stopped short, as on a sudden thought, and then, with a giggle, buried her face in his flannel shirt. And the next thing, as unexpected as her blue-eyed rage, she dropped her hands from his coat, stooped to catch up the hem of her skirt between thumb and forefinger of each hand, and began to pirouette around the room.

"Oh, ho!" she exclaimed, laughing triumphantly, her little body swaying as she tripped, with low curtsies to Seth and Hillyer, who for the moment forget their animosity in wonder at this feminine diversion. "Beautiful! Gorgeous! Oh, splendid!"

She stopped, at length, in front of Seth, dropped to one knee, bowed till her golden head almost touched the floor, and rose again to stand with her hands on her hips, her arms akimbo, her face flushed with excitement.

"Seth Huntington!" she cried ecstatically. "Do you know what we're going to do?"

He merely stared.

"We're going to heap coals of fire on his head."

"What do you mean?" demanded Huntington uneasily.

"Marion's going to nurse Haig. There's no way any of us can stop her.

She's our cousin and guest, and we've got to show it. If they want to talk, we'll give them something to talk about. _I'll go and nurse Haig too!_"

Dead silence.

"Ah!" cried Hillyer.

"You'll not!" roared Huntington.

"Watch me!" retorted Claire, turning swiftly, and running toward her bedroom. But halfway there she stopped. "No, don't watch me! You just go and look after the cattle. Leave this Mr. Haig to us, and he'll be the best friend you ever had before Marion and I get through with him."

Hillyer, recovering from his amazement, stepped smiling to where she stood, and reached both his hands to her.

"Mrs. Huntington," he said warmly. "You're a peach!"

She laughed gaily, and put both her tiny hands in his, for just an instant.

This was the last straw. Seth snorted like a baited animal, whirled around, bolted from the house, and ran blindly to the barn.

"Saddle n.i.g.g.e.r!" he yelled to Williams, who obeyed with stumbling alacrity, while Huntington strode up and down before the door.

From the window of the ranch house Claire and Hillyer, silent, watched him until he had flung himself into the saddle, dug the spurs into the flanks of his favorite and now astonished black horse, and disappeared up the hill.

"Where's he going?" asked Hillyer, suspicious that Huntington meant mischief.

Claire drew back from the window with a sigh of relief.

"He's going to--" She laughed softly, but with just a little tremor in her voice--"He's going to--look after the cattle."

Hillyer saw that her blue eyes were moist.

"He's the best man in the world, and--I love him," she said, looking at Hillyer with a soft appeal. "You believe that, don't you?"

"Indeed I do, Mrs. Huntington," Hillyer answered heartily.

"Then you must forgive him; he has such a temper!"

"I'm sorry we had any misunderstanding," Hillyer was able to say sincerely. "I'll talk it over with him--later."

"Please!" urged Claire.

"But I must go now. Those things for Marion, please."

"I'll have them ready in a minute. And I've only to slip on another dress, and--"

"But you don't mean--You're not going?"

"Of course I am!" she answered, with a look of surprise.

"I think you'd better not," he said quietly.

"But why?"

"Now think a minute, Mrs. Huntington. Your husband objects to your going. It will not only anger him more, but it will hurt him. Isn't that so?"

"Yes," she admitted reluctantly.

Her coals of fire had kindled her imagination. Such a romantic idea!

There would be such talk, such a sensation!

"It would be another matter if there were anything you could do,"

Hillyer went on. "But there isn't. And I know very well that Marion would send you back if you did go."

That was true enough, on reflection; but it was a disappointment!

"But Marion! There alone!" she said, making her last stand.

"I shall be there," replied Hillyer. "The Chinaman's going to fix a bed for me. I'll look after Marion."

So she yielded, and was glad of it when she had time to think it over.

She gave Hillyer the bundle for Marion, and watched him go, waving a good-by from the veranda. Then she hastened to the kitchen to make apple dumplings for supper. If there was one thing that could always be counted on to soothe Seth it was apple dumplings.