“Yes.  Cross my heart.  There!  And you must not tell.”

Kathleen was a precocious child, with all the potentialities of youth.  She could not divine Lenore’s motive, but she sensed a new and fascinating mode of conduct for herself.  She seemed puzzled a little at Lenore’s earnestness.

“It’s a bargain,” she said, soberly, as if she had accepted no slight gauge.

“Now, Kathleen, take him all over the gardens, the orchards, the corrals and barns,” directed Lenore.  “Be sure to show him the horses—­my horses, especially.  Take him round the reservoir—­and everywhere except the wheat-fields.  I want to take him there myself.  Besides, father does not want you girls to go out to the harvest.”

Kathleen nodded and ran back to the sitting-room.  Lenore heard them all go out together.  Before she finished breakfast her mother came in again.

“Lenore, I like Mr. Dorn,” she said, meditatively.  “He has an old-fashioned manner that reminds me of my boy friends when I was a girl.  I mean he’s more courteous and dignified than boys are nowadays.  A splendid-looking boy, too.  Only his face is so sad.  When he smiles he seems another person.”

“No wonder he’s sad,” replied Lenore, and briefly told Kurt Dorn’s story.

“Ah!” sighed Mrs. Anderson.  “We have fallen upon evil days....  Poor boy!...  Your father seems much interested in him.  And you are too, my daughter?”

“Yes, I am,” replied Lenore, softly.

Two hours later she heard Kathleen’s gay laughter and pattering feet.  Lenore took her wide-brimmed hat and went out on the porch.  Dorn was indeed not the same somber young man he had been.

“Good morning, Kurt,” said Lenore, extending her hand.

The instant he greeted her she saw the stiffness, the aloofness had gone from him.  Kathleen had made him feel at home.  He looked younger.  There was color in his face.

“Kathleen, I’ll take charge of Mr. Dorn now, if you will allow me that pleasure.”

“Lenorry, I sure hate to give him up.  We sure had a fine time.”

“Did he like ’Many Waters’?”

“Well, if he didn’t he’s a grand fibber,” replied Kathleen.  “But he did.  You can’t fool me.  I thought I’d never get him back to the house.”  Then, as she tripped up the porch steps, she shook a finger at Dorn.  “Remember!”

“I’ll never forget,” said Dorn, and he was as earnest as he was amiable.  Then, as she disappeared, he exclaimed to Lenore, “What an adorable little girl!”

“Do you like Kathleen?”

“Like her!” Dorn laughed in a way to make light of such words.  “My life has been empty.  I see that.”

“Come, we’ll go out to the wheat-fields,” said Lenore.  “What do you think of ‘Many Waters’?  This is harvest-time.  You see ‘Many Waters’ at its very best.”

“I can hardly tell you,” he replied.  “All my life I’ve lived on my barren hills.  I seem to have come to another world.  ‘Many Waters’ is such a ranch as I never dreamed of.  The orchards, the fruit, the gardens—­and everywhere running water!  It all smells so fresh and sweet.  And then the green and red and purple against that background of blazing gold!...  ‘Many Waters’ is verdant and fruitful.  The Bend is desert.”