Madeline went so far, however, as to promise Helen and her friends that she would go East soon, at the very latest by Thanksgiving.  With that promise they were reluctantly content to say good-by to the ranch and to her.  At the last moment there seemed a great likelihood of a hitch in plans for the first stage of that homeward journey.  All of Madeline’s guests held up their hands, Western fashion, when Link Stevens appeared with the big white car.  Link protested innocently, solemnly, that he would drive slowly and safely; but it was necessary for Madeline to guarantee Link’s word and to accompany them before they would enter the car.  At the station good-bys were spoken and repeated, and Madeline’s promise was exacted for the hundredth time.

Dorothy Coombs’s last words were:  “Give my love to Monty Price.  Tell him I’m—­I’m glad he kissed me!”

Helen’s eyes had a sweet, grave, yet mocking light as she said: 

“Majesty, bring Stewart with you when you come.  He’ll be the rage.”

Madeline treated the remark with the same merry lightness with which it was received by the others; but after the train had pulled out and she was on her way home she remembered Helen’s words and looks with something almost amounting to a shock.  Any mention of Stewart, any thought of him, displeased her.

“What did Helen mean?” mused Madeline.  And she pondered.  That mocking light in Helen’s eyes had been simply an ironical glint, a cynical gleam from that worldly experience so suspicious and tolerant in its wisdom.  The sweet gravity of Helen’s look had been a deeper and more subtle thing.  Madeline wanted to understand it, to divine in it a new relation between Helen and herself, something fine and sisterly that might lead to love.  The thought, however, revolving around a strange suggestion of Stewart, was poisoned at its inception, and she dismissed it.

Upon the drive in to the ranch, as she was passing the lower lake, she saw Stewart walking listlessly along the shore.  When he became aware of the approach of the car he suddenly awakened from his aimless sauntering and disappeared quickly in the shade of the shrubbery.  This was not by any means the first time Madeline had seen him avoid a possible meeting with her.  Somehow the act had pained her, though affording her a relief.  She did not want to meet him face to face.

It was annoying for her to guess that Stillwell had something to say in Stewart’s defense.  The old cattleman was evidently distressed.  Several times he had tried to open a conversation with Madeline relating to Stewart; she had evaded him until the last time, when his persistence had brought a cold and final refusal to hear another word about the foreman.  Stillwell had been crushed.